


Thirsty For You

by 3rdgenderfromthesun



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Medieval, Asexual Character, Asexuality, Attempted Rape/Non-Con, Consort Stiles Stilinski, Creeper Peter, Cuddling & Snuggling, Curses, Discussion of Abortion, Geography Is A Joke, Hurt/Comfort, Intersex, M/M, Masturbation, Mpreg, Other Relationships Not Described, Other Ships Not Mentioned in Tags, Past Torture, Prostitution, References to Knotting, Romance, Sex, Sexist Language
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-12
Updated: 2017-11-12
Packaged: 2019-02-01 08:35:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 30
Words: 47,668
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12701259
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/3rdgenderfromthesun/pseuds/3rdgenderfromthesun
Summary: Stiles would do anything to save his brother Scott, even hand his virginity over to a prince in order to break a curse. The only problem was the Prince seemed to be lousy at anything involving an attempt at ending the drought that plagued their country, even though Stiles was so very willing. Instead he was obsessed with keeping Stiles away from Peter and... teaching him to read?





	1. Chapter 1

Stiles had always been told he had the loyalty of a wolf, but nothing put the human’s love for his friend to the test like the famine. The Hales, for their part, were doing everything they could to alleviate their people’s suffering, and any rumors that they were hoarding food for themselves were quickly put to rest when they opened their doors for inspection by a person elected by their people. Stiles’ father was that person, and while he found no evidence they were benefiting more than usual from their monarchy, he did find out that they were far warmer and had a more supplies than their people. Shortly after that finding the winter took both Stiles’ father and Scott’s mother from them, leaving the two young men struggling to survive in an already hostile world.

Scott wasn’t well. He’d actually never been well. He had an ailment that left him short of breath at the best of times and nearly bedridden for most of the winter. That winter was the hardest many could remember and Stiles was desperate. His father had already gained access to the castle for a few nights to inspect it and he’d told Stiles of how warm it was inside, and that there were entire rooms that the frigid gusts of wind from the ocean didn’t even penetrate. If Scott were given even a corner of those rooms to sleep in than he would survive the winter. Come spring the drought might break. They might survive.

Stiles’ resolve to save his best friend’s life led him to the castle on a bleak day, standing outside of the depository as the guards handed out rations to the people. It was a paltry fair. Everyone got a loaf of bread and a wedge of cheese for the week. What ever else they needed they must fend for themselves. Seven years of famine was taking a toll even on the richest of their people. Stiles knew that those in the castle had fruit and vegetables occasionally, but he also understood that their station was what gave them such luxury. It was imported from the East at great expense. So was the grain used feed the chickens so they laid enough eggs to make bread from the remaining grain. The castle also had four cows- _four cows!_ \- that they kept fed via a field within the castle walls. It had once been a great garden according to Stiles’ mother. When she had been a child the gardener had been world-renowned and had grown flowers there that normally were only able to bloom in the hottest countries. Now he struggled to keep enough hay alive to feed four cows.

Stiles couldn’t imagine such wealth. He and Scott’s family had shared a hovel since they were children. Their two families shared a single large pallet bed in the loft while the floor was reserved for Scott’s mother’s healing practice. Stiles’ mother had taken ill and died when they were young, and Rafe had run off with a prostitute. Rafe and Stiles’ father had both been law enforcement, so Stiles’ father felt himself duty bound to marry Melissa so that their home didn’t come under scrutiny for having two unmarried persons of the opposite sex under one roof. Their marriage was obviously chaste, though not loveless. Stiles and Scott becoming brothers was bittersweet, especially since the drought struck that same year.

Stiles’ reflection came to an end as he reached the front of the line. Instead of accepting the bread and cheese that he knew he was lucky to have since those further from the castle were in dire straights, he looked the guard in the eye, squared his shoulders, and spoke up quite loudly.

“I require an audience with the prince.”

The guard snorted and shoved the bread at him.

“I’m the son of Noah Stilinski,” Stiles stated, “He died this morning and I have assumed his position as Peacekeeper. I require an audience with the prince!”

“Go to hell, Stiles,” Jackson groused.

“Damn it, Jackson,” Stiles deflated a bit, “This is fucking urgent!”

Jackson looked offended at Stiles’ peasant slang, but Stiles wasn’t about to relent. As children they had had the same education in the same building in the village square. Jackson had tormented Stiles relentlessly, proud of the fact that in a few years time he’d be moving to the castle to take up training as a guard. He planned to be a knight while Stiles was doomed to follow his father’s path. Stiles wasn’t bothered. He wanted to be a Peacekeeper. He’d have been content if it weren’t for the fact that _nothing_ his step-mother did could cure Scott of his ailment. She could relieve it, but not heal his frail lungs.

“Move it along or you get nothing.”

“I’m not asking to see the queen,” Stiles snarled, “Just the fucking prince! It’s not a huge request!”

“It’s not a small one,” Jackson replied, “And the people already investigated. We’re not _hiding food_. We’re suffering, too!”

“Oh, yeah, totally suffering,” Stiles sneered, “How was your daily ration of an apple and a potato, Jackson? Did you make breakfast potatoes? Or are you saving it for dinner?”

“Shut up!” Jackson hissed.

Stiles’ father, because he wasn’t a suicidal or irrational man, hadn’t told the people that they had more food, just that they weren’t hoarding any. It was the truth. They ate better than the people, but they also made deals to bring more food in that kept people alive. So in a way they had earned their portions.

“I heard you even have _sugar_ ,” Stiles whispered, narrowing his glare at Jackson’s flushing face, “You going to make a pie with that apple? While people out here _starve_? I bet you’d do that you pompous, selfish-“

Jackson grabbed Stiles by the ear, ending his tirade and causing him to squawk in pain. He dragged the young man in through the kitchen door, through the ( _oh my gods, it’s hot in here!)_ kitchen that smelled of freshly baked bread, and into a hall that was shockingly cold after the heat of the kitchen ovens he’d passed. Stiles’ ear was released and he rubbed it angrily.

“Are you insane?” Jackson snapped, “Your father agreed not to tell!”

“He only told me,” Stiles replied miserably, “And _I_ didn’t make that agreement. Prince. Now.”

Jackson swore angrily, “You’ll cause a revolt! People will die!”

“People are _already_ dying.”

Jackson led Stiles through the castle, and he was surprised to find it nearly barren of decoration. The trip was long and Stiles was easily distracted. He ended up pausing and staring at a blank area on the wall. It was darker than the rest in a square that left Stiles certain that something had recently hung there, protecting the paneling from the sun coming through a window opposite.

“The Hales have had to sell off family heirlooms to pay for the food coming in,” Jackson spoke softly, “Their coffers are depleted. If the famine doesn’t break this year we’re all dead. Potatoes and apples be damned. We won’t get _anything_ from the Yakimuras without payment. They aren’t a charity, Stiles.”

“If I don’t see the prince Scott won’t last the winter,” Stiles replied.

“So?” Jackson scoffed, “He should have been drowned at birth. Why is anyone even wasting food on someone who can barely work two seasons?”

Stiles stewed angrily but didn’t reply. It was a question he was used to hearing.

They arrived at a large, dark door and Jackson knocked on it and waited until a slender man in drab garb answered the door. He had curls that were probably once very pretty but hard times had left them lackluster. Everything and everyone was drained of color.

“Hey, Isaac,” Jackson grumbled, “Got another one.”

Isaac gave Stiles a calculating stare and then nodded, “I’ll see if he will see him but you know how he’s been since Brandon.”

“He’s got information,” Jackson replied angrily, “He’s Stilinski’s son, and he’s threatening to cause a rebellion if he can’t ‘see’ his Lordship.”

“Well,” A voice that was soft yet carried spoke from within, “Then let’s have him tried for treason, hung, and be done with him.”

Stiles felt the color drain from his face as the door was fully opened and Isaac stepped aside. Jackson shoved him through it and he entered a room that was warm in a comforting way instead of the stifling heat of the kitchens. Stiles let out a soft sound of pleasure as the heat soothed the pain in his fingers and began to slowly permeate his tattered clothes. Stiles had washed that morning in water he’d had to break the ice off of after pumping it from a well five miles away from his home the night before. He wasn’t used to warmth outside of the bed he huddled in with his family, and it had been far colder of late.

The temperature wasn’t the only warmth. The room was decorated in deep reds and blacks with dark wood paneling, giving it a feeling of closeness despite the open floor plan. Stiles shuffled towards the fireplace and promptly turned his back to it. If he was going to die here he was going to do it with his ass nice and toasty.

The prince was shorter than Stiles had expected, but as dashingly handsome as the stories had told. He had muscles for days, dark hair, a thin beard designed to make his chiseled jaw pop, and was dressed in the same dark colors of his room. He gestured to the fireplace as Stiles squared his shoulders and prepared to do verbal battle.

“Do you like it?” Derek asked, “There’s no shortage of kindling during a drought.”

Stiles scoffed, “For the rich, perhaps. The rest of us are too busy trying to scavenge for food and haul water to gather more than a paltry amount of wood for kindling, and the smoke makes my brother’s chest ache. Build a big enough fire and bandits decide you’re rich. Next thing you know you _are_ food and they’re sleeping in your bed.”

“That’s repulsive,” The man scowled, “I refuse to believe my people have resorted to cannibalism.”

“Than you’re blind as well as spoilt!” Stiles declared angrily, “I loved my father, more than anyone besides my step brother, and when the winter took him I _still_ didn’t hesitate to chop him up and share his flesh with my neighbors. We’re dying out there! In slow and horrible-“

“Enough!” The man fumed, “Your father was afforded license to visit here. We passed his muster. What right have you to come in and undo his work?”

“I’m not here for that,” Stiles replied, glad he was actually able to negotiate, “I’m here to make a deal with you.”

The prince scoffed and gestured around himself, “What sort of deal?”

Stiles hesitated, glancing around himself at the two people in the room, “Uhm… one we should discuss in private, My Lord.”

Derek sneered at him openly, “You aren’t my type.”

Stiles swallowed and stepped forward, “With all due respect, My Lord, your own guard just told me that your people won’t survive another year of this famine. Swallow your fucking pride and let me break the curse.”

Isaac frowned. Jackson sneered. Derek raised an eyebrow in scrutiny. Stiles lifted his chin proudly and stared down royalty.

For the last ten years famine had ravaged the land, and it was a well-known fact that Prince Derek Hale was the cause. Ten years prior the Hale family had attempted to end a family feud with the Argents by marrying Derek to their eldest princess. The agreement was that Derek would go to live with the Argents since Kate was to ascend the throne. Two months after the wedding Derek had returned in the middle of the night, barely conscious on the back of his black stallion. The animal had been nearly feral, but even as it evaded the guard’s attempts to catch it, it never bucked Derek from it’s back. He was tied onto the horse, and it was clear he’d been traveling days. When they got him down he simply fainted away… and so did the clouds. Since that day not a single cloud had graced the skies above Beacon Hills Castle without Derek taking action to cause it. Further out in the kingdom some rain occurred, but the closer to the castle the direr the situation and only the borders of the country were survivable without aid. Since the Argents had closed their doors to trade or communication after Derek’s return, it was clear that they would give no assistance and allies were becoming scarce.

The rumor that spread after that day was that Derek had been unable to consummate his marriage with Kate Argent. Rumors circulated, but droughts had happened and would again. No one worried overmuch. Then the next year was dry. And the next. People began to die. A plague took out an entire village. Questions were asked. Derek Hale, to the shock of the country, frantically began to court… men.

Derek Hale had burned through the attractive young men at court like a barn fire. He would pursue them relentlessly and they would either reject him until he moved on or tumble into the beautiful man’s bed. What was shocking was that every time he’d gotten one to acquiesce _it had rained._ Then they’d leave him shortly after, apparently finding his presence intolerable. Prince Derek, people concluded, was cursed; his bride having discovered that he preferred men had cursed him to find true love amongst his own sex or condemn his people to slow death. Only when a man graced his bed would the weather return to normal, as it had for a period three years into the drought, but after Derek ran out of rich baron’s sons to tumble with he’d gone as dry as the weather. Occasionally a young farmer would brave the castle and ask to see him. Sometimes it would rain that night. Always the men would be packed up and carted off in the night, never to be seen again. One was rumored to have died. The last three men had been turned away completely.

“What makes you think you can break the curse?” Derek asked, studying him curiously, “Permanently?”

“Because I think people have it wrong,” Stiles grinned ruthlessly, “I’m the son of a Peacekeeper. I didn’t just go off of rumors. I did research. Interviewed people. Found out the truth. It’s not _love_ you lack. It’s _devotion_.”

“Explain,” Derek asked, eyes narrowing.

“Your bride couldn’t have cared that much that you wouldn’t love her,” Stiles waved his hand dismissively and strode across the room. He pretended to admire the silverware and pocketed an apple as he turned sharply, “It was an arranged marriage and she was older than you. Sensible. No, something happened in New York, didn’t it?”

“Spit it out,” Derek replied coldly, “I have no patience for theatrics.”

“You betrayed her trust,” Stiles stated, “When you fell in love with a page in the court. She was humiliated by your less-than-secretive dalliances with a young man and threw you out. She then _double_ cursed you. Not only do you need to find a lover to free our people from drought, plague, and famine, but you are damned to repulse everyone you spend a night in bed with due to your _monster cock!”_

There was a dramatic pause and then both the servant and Jackson burst out into hysterical peels of laughter. Stiles face blushed red, but he knew he was right. He’d spoken to the men servants of two of the lords that Derek had taken to bed before he’d turned to desperate young men. They spoke of helping their masters heal from damage to their bodies incurred by bedding the man standing before him.

Derek wasn’t laughing, and eventually the staff caught on to that and their laughter petered off to be replaced by absolute horror.

“What exactly do you think you can do about that?” Derek asked calmly, folding his arms to stare Stiles down.

“You have a two-part curse,” Stiles stated pointedly, “I have a two-part solution. You require a consistent lover to ease the first. I can provide that. I have a need that only you can meet and it will secure a lifetime of devotion from me. I will stay and so will the rain. The second, the part that chased off and even killed previous lovers, surprisingly enough, is easier than you think.”

“Oh?” He asked in a mocking tone.

“Yes,” Stiles nodded, “You see, I’m blessed.”

Jackson scoffed and then stilled, “No way.”

“It’s just a legend,” Isaac whispered to Derek, “It can’t be true.”

Blessed people were men with orifices like women or women with penises like men. For some it meant androgyny, for others it meant an exaggerated secondary sex characteristic such as a bearded lady or a man with breasts. For all of them it meant the woman’s ability to bare young existed within them. Stiles looked relatively like a man externally, but within him lay a secret.

“Blessed people can take what amounts to a _fist_ into their bodies?” Derek asked with narrowed eyes.

“My body is male enough to entice you,” Stiles stated firmly, “and feminine enough to tolerate you. I can even give you heirs. I just want _one_ thing in return.”

“Name it,” Derek asked, greed in his eyes as he took a restrained step forward.

Stiles resisted the urge to step backwards. He looked ravenous, more like a wild man than a prince, “I want my step-brother to survive.”


	2. Chapter 2

Stiles had been told to bathe again, but this time he was provided with a large metal tub full of _heated water_! It had been bliss and Stiles had stayed in long past the point it had cooled, just soaking in joy and drinking the water when Isaac wasn’t watching. Finally Isaac had insisted he leave the scented water and Stiles had stepped out and wrestled the towel from him. He was _not_ okay with being dried off by someone else. Isaac had looked offended but Derek was merely amused.

“You’re going to get a stomach ache from drinking all that soap,” He chortled.

Stiles stuck his tongue out at him childishly. He had a feeling based on Derek’s earlier comment about hanging him that the prince had a dry sense of humor that was dying to be fed like the plants in their country. He’d been standing there the entire time just studying Stiles as he bathed. He looked unmoved, but when Stiles teased him the corner of his mouth twitched in restrained amusement. Stiles grinned at him as he dried off, but it was mostly to cover his nerves.

“Is my brother here, yet?” Stiles asked.

“I told you we sent for him,” Derek stated, tone irritable.

“Yeah, but you need my loyalty,” Stiles reminded him, “That’s tied to Scott. I need to know he’s safe.”

Derek growled irritably, “I need to know you haven’t _lied_.”

Stiles sighed and moved to the stool meant to allow someone to wash him, Stiles assumed. Isaac hadn’t offered and Stiles imagined Derek wouldn’t have allowed it since he wasn’t even letting the servant alone with Stiles. The blessed man propped one leg up on it and bent over the tub. Isaac gasped and backed off, hands flying over his eyes. Derek stood up straighter in surprise. Stiles reached back and found the slit that lay between his tiny testicles and asshole. He parted the folds to show Derek his hidden place but was careful not to insert even the tip of one finger. His virginity was on the market now.

“It can give birth to a child, so yes. It can take a fist-sized dick. I can’t say I will like it, but I doubt my enjoyment is necessary. I’m fine lying back and thinking of Beacon Hills.”

Stiles stood up straight and spun about to give Derek a wide smirk, “Not too offensive to your gayhood?”

“No,” Derek replied, though he didn’t look filled with lust like Stiles had assumed he would be, “So if I were to put my… what did you call it?”

“Monster dick,” Stiles replied easily as he accepted some new clothes from a blushing Isaac, “Oh, no offense.”

“None taken,” Derek snorted in clear amusement, “So if I put my ‘monster dick’ in you, you wouldn’t bleed?”

“I might a bit,” Stiles admitted, “Seeing as how I’m a virgin and all, but I wouldn’t, like, bleed out. I’d recover. Might be sore for a bit, but you don’t need it to rain daily, do you? I mean, we want moderation, not floods.”

Derek nodded, seeming to consider Stiles words for a moment. Isaac helped Stiles dress in the unfamiliar clothes. They were a dark blue with orange trim, the colors of the Hale family crest which featured two black wolves howling before an orange harvest moon with blue background.

“These are nice!” Stiles proclaimed, noting how warm they were despite the fact the pants only went to mid-calf. The stockings helped keep them tolerable and Stiles found he rather liked the feel of the slim fabric on his legs.

Derek snorted, “They’re servant’s clothes. I haven’t anything in your size. You’re too tall to wear my late brother’s clothes.”

Stiles winced at the reminder that the Hales had suffered loss from the drought as well. Cory Hale had been in the provinces when a plague had struck. He hadn’t left despite the fact his title would have allowed him to break quarantine. His sacrifice cost him his life but likely saved thousands since he would have brought his illness to the capital.

“Well, I love them,” Stiles crowed, “I haven’t had new clothes once in my life!”

“They’re used,” Derek stated blandly.

“Well _I_ can’t tell!”

Derek strode forward and ran his hand along Stiles’ shoulders as he examined how well it fit, “Once we have established that you do indeed bring rain- or in this time of year snow- than we’ll get my tailor to make you something appropriate for your position here.”

Stiles snorted, “What do boy whores wear, anyway? I’ve never seen them before.”

“The proper term is consort, I believe,” Derek replied sourly, “And you’d wear fine clothes. I cherish my lovers… the ones who _stay_ , that is.”

“Keep my brother healthy and I’ll never leave,” Stiles replied, waving his hand dismissively, “Let him die and I’ll follow him. He’s all I have left and I refuse to live in this despicable world alone.”

Derek gave Stiles a strange look, cocking his head to one side as if listening. He opened his mouth to speak, but a knock on the door had Isaac hurrying over to exit the bath area and head for the entrance to Derek’s suite. The voices were too low for Stiles to hear but apparently Derek had superior hearing because he scowled at Stiles and strode past him.

“Lying already?”

“What are you talking about?” Stiles scoffed, but followed him quickly into the main room. Scott was standing beside Jackson, shivering and pale as death.

“Scott!” Stiles broke into a run and quickly gathered him close, pulling him towards the fire, “What did you do to him, Jackson?!”

“I found him like that. He was barely breathing,” Jackson replied, serious and soft spoken for once. He’d known them growing up. Apparently he _did_ have a heart because he seemed genuinely worried. Scott was hard to hate. He was a sweet guy.

“Did you take your medicine today?” Stiles fussed, poking into his breast pocket for the herbs he carried with him in a packet.

“I ran out a week ago,” Scott admitted, “My mom knew the recipe but…”

“You said you had it!” Stiles practically shouted, “What the hell, man?!”

“I didn’t want you to worry…”

“And when I found you _dead?!”_

Scott’s eyes dropped in shame but it was Derek who spoke up.

“What ailment does he have?”

“He has weak lungs,” Stiles replied, “You have a doctor, don’t you? My mother only treated the people in the village. You must have a healer for the castle!”

Derek glanced towards Jackson and then back to Stiles, “What else is wrong with him?”

“Nothing!” Stiles snapped, “I told you he wouldn’t last the winter! I wasn’t lying! He needs medicine! Melissa used to brew him a tea and she had herbs he’d breathe in. They smelled sweet.”

“Squill, most likely,” Derek replied easily, “Belladona for breathing, but Squill for the tea. Squill is imported and expensive. No wonder your family lived in squalor despite your mother being a healer. She must have spent every copper she made to bring him his medicine.”

Scott looked a bit green and Stiles began rubbing his hands anxiously, “Breathe, brother.”

“Would I be able to tell?” Derek asked.

“Able to tell what?” Stiles asked, distracted by Scott’s blue lips.

“You claim to be a virgin,” Derek gestured at Stiles, “But you have no body shame and you live with a man who is not biologically your brother.”

“Scott, what do my genitals look like?” Stiles asked in exasperation.

“What?” Scott crinkled up his nose in disgust, “Dude. Why would I want to know?”

“Just answer,” Stiles rolled his eyes.

“Like… like _genitals_ ,” Scott whispered in horror, unable to even say the words out loud.

“Like boy genitals or girl genitals?” Stiles asked irritably.

“Boy. Obviously,” Scott glanced at the people in the room in complete confusion, “I mean. I’ve seen them because we share a home that’s a single room, you know? Not because we have had sex. We bathe by the fire one at a time. I’ve never, like, _touched_ them. I like girls, anyway. Stiles, what’s going on here? Do they think you lie with boys?”

That seemed to convince them. Scott had never looked close enough to notice the slit that made Stiles different from the majority of the world. Derek, however, wasn’t through.

“I wouldn’t know, though, if you were unfaithful. Not with the way your body is made.”

Stiles made a face, “I need my brother to _survive_. I’m not going to risk losing him to get _laid_. If you want I’ll wear some metal underwear or something. I could care less so long as you _get him a healer_! Before he dies right in front of us!”

Derek gestured to Isaac who hurried away while Scott gave them all a confused look.

“Stiles,” Scott asked, eyes narrowing on Stiles even as his breath wheezed, “Why is this dude worried about your bits and who you sleep with?”

“Scott, buddy,” Stiles gripped Scott’s shoulder, “I have a confession to make.”

“Yeah?”

“You know how my dad came here to investigate?”

“Yeah?”

“Well, you know how I never mind my own business?”

“Double yeah.”

“I followed him and the guards caught me.”

Scott snorted and rolled his eyes, but fell into a nasty coughing fit that had even Derek worryingly stepping forward. The prince gestured to Jackson to fetch a blanket from the bed, which he did with a sneer since it wasn’t his job. Scott nodded gratefully and wrapped up tightly in it, his breathing audible and crackling.

“What happened?” Scott whispered, his voice roughened.

Stiles stood up and walked towards Derek with strong strides and pressed against Derek’s side, he smiled up at him with such a smitten look that Derek went still and held his breath in shock. Stiles laid his head on Derek’s shoulder and smiled to his brother with joy in his eyes.

“We met and fell in love,” Stiles replied easily.

Scott’s eyes lit up and the young man straightened a bit, “You… that’s wonderful! Stiles, I’m so hap-happy for-“

Scott fell into another coughing fit and Stiles hurried back to his side to rub his back in worry. Isaac returned with a man with the darkest skin Stiles had ever seen. He did a double take for a moment, wondering if it was some kind of paint, but as the man knelt beside Scott it seemed to be his actual skin color.

“Were you… burnt?” Stiles asked, hand reaching out curiously.

The man slapped his hand down without glancing at him and Stiles yelped at the sharp pain and gave him the offended look that he deserved. The man pulled open a satchel and placed a strange looking bottle on the hearthstone that had an opening at the top and one in the middle. He poured clear liquid into it and added a handful of herbs. Scott’s breathing was horrid but when Stiles glanced at him his eyes were clear. He wasn’t gone from them yet. The man pulled a small faggot from his bag and chose a long stick to light, lifting the bowl and pressing the flame directly to it to heat the bowl.

“Breathe the steam,” The man ordered, waiting until the liquid bubbled.

A familiar scent issued from the bowl and Stiles let out a slow breath of relief. As he’d suspected, they had Scott’s medicine in the castle, but would they be able to heal him completely? At the very least having him live there would mean less strain on his lungs as the castle was warm and dry, and perhaps this new delivery method would mean the difference. Scott usually breathed the smoke by leaning over it, but this strange bowl/bottle let a cleaner steam pour out in abundance directly into his mouth where he was able to breathe it in, hold it for a few seconds, and then breathe it out with ease.

“Oh, wow!” Scott whispered, eyes going wide.

“More, now,” He ordered, “Finish the bowl.”

“He’ll be okay?” Stiles asked, arm around his brother’s waist in concern.

“Hold this and help him while I examine him,” The man replied.

Stiles helped hold the bowl at the stem and kept the flame beneath it. He tapped the hole the way the man showed him and Scott breathed in more steam. Each breath eased his lungs more and Stiles felt as if weight were lifted from his shoulders. The dark skinned man moved around Scott and listened to his heart and lungs with a cup and tube. He studied his eyes, ears, nose, and throat between breaths. When the bottle was empty he returned it to his bag and produced more herbs.

“Isaac,” The man ordered, “Brew us tea with these leaves. Two cups worth.”

“Yes, Healer Deaton.”

“Your young man here,” Deaton spoke up as he rose, “Is suffering from more than one condition.”

“I thought as much,” Derek grumbled.

“I had no idea!” Stiles snapped angrily, “His mother only mentioned one!”

“The second is new,” Deaton soothed, “It’s a contagious illness, one where fluid gathers in the lungs. It’s very serious and even the healthy can die from this.”

Stiles shakily took Scott’s hand and Scott gave him a sorrowful expression, “Our parents were having trouble breathing when they died. Mom brewed medicine but when she became too weak there was no one to heal _her_. We tried, but…”

“They likely passed it onto him,” Deaton informed Derek before glancing over Stiles, “I’m surprised you aren’t ill as well.”

“I rarely get sick,” Stiles whispered, rubbing Scott’s shoulder, “I’d take it from him if I could.”

“Stiles,” Scott gripped his hand tightly, “I like that you’re healthy. The villagers are right. I should have been-“

“You say you should have been drowned at birth and I’ll beat you up like when we were kids, sick or no!” Stiles lashed out angrily.

Scott winced but Derek was staring at Deaton for an answer so the man spoke up with a heavy sigh, “It’s not far along. We may be able to save him, but I’m certainly not making any promises. His underlying condition complicates things.”

“Well,” Derek replied softly, “Take him to your clinic. Stiles, say your goodbyes. Your brother needs rest.”

Stiles nodded in agreement and held him gently in his arms, pressing a kiss to his cheek and whispering his love for his brother.

“Please, please, be well!” Stiles pleaded, “Do whatever Deaton says, okay? I’ll visit you when you’re better.”

“Hey, if I don’t-“

“Shut up.”

“ _Stiles_! If I don’t make it, just be happy, okay? I want that for you. With a guy or whatever, I don’t care if you’re gay. I just want you to be happy.”

“Thank you,” Stiles helped him stand, “But you gotta survive to make sure I have someone to cause mischief with in the castle, okay? That’s what will make me happy.”

Scott rolled his eyes, “You don’t need me to cause mischief.”

Scott left with Deaton, leaning heavily on Isaac’s shoulder, and Stiles sank down onto the bench before the fireplace, his legs suddenly shaking and weak. Jackson left the room after giving Stiles a significant look that held no meaning for the young man. He shut the door and Stiles was left alone in the warm room.

“He’ll be okay,” Stiles whispered, “He’ll be okay.”

“The question is,” Derek spoke up, reminding Stiles that he was there, “Will you be okay never being able to consummate your love for him?”

Stiles scoffed, “Why are you so obsessed with my sex life? I don’t _want_ Scott. Not like that. Yeah, I love him, but _as a brother_. I don’t want his dick and I never will, even if it’s not a monster dick like yours. No offense.”

“None taken,” Derek snorted, “I have to inform you that you have aspects of the curse wrong.”

“No I don’t.”

“You do,” Derek nodded, “You’re clearly intelligent- and _meddlesome-_ but you aren’t infallible. Sadly, the damn curse itself forbids me from telling you what the truth is. I can only confirm the parts you have wrong. You can guess if you’d like, but I feel that it’s rather moot at this point. We shall wait until your brother heals to continue discussing our agreement. Until then you are a guest at the castle and will be treated accordingly. Once Isaac returns he’ll have you set up in a room here.”

Stiles stood up and gave him a considering stare, “We might as well iron out the finer details. Your healer seems competent and… well, I’m not willing to think about him failing. I’d rather focus on the future.”

Derek nodded and headed for a desk to the left of the fireplace, “Very well. A written contract will do.”

Stiles leaned against the mantel for more of that delicious warmth while Derek pulled out ink and quill and began to write.

“Standard contract,” Derek stated, “This is the same I wrote for the others once I realized it was necessary to spell out what _should_ be obvious.”

Stiles frowned, “I don’t need obvious things spelled out for me. Just tell me what you want. It’s something kinky, right?”

“Kinky?” Derek frowned at him.

“Yeah, you know. Whips and chains.”

“You’d be my companion, not my slave.”

“Oh, boy. You’re not familiar with…? Okay, whatever. Just tell me what it is you like in bed. Remember, virgin?”

Derek shook his head and turned away, completely backing the conversation up, “Your anxiety is because you can’t read. I’m aware that most of our townspeople are illiterate. I’ll read the contract to you.”

“I can read,” Stiles stated defensively.

Derek gave him a dry glare and Stiles amended, “A few words.”

“Words like ‘fish’ and ’5 coppers’?” Derek clarified.

“Yeah,” Stiles grumbled.

“I’ll teach you to read if you like,” Derek stated, “It’s something I greatly enjoy. That brings me to the most important aspect of our agreement. _Companionship_.”

“You royals use such flowery terms for sex,” Stiles snorted.

“I could care less about sex,” Derek replied, “I care about loyalty. You’ll learn that quickly enough. Your requirements here are to do exactly that: be loyal. You will tell no one what happens within the walls of my private chambers, not even your brother. When you put your X on this page it promises that. You will _never_ speak of what we do or say here. To do so will mean your incarceration. Understood?”

“Yes,” Stiles nodded, frowning a bit, “How… how bad is it going to be? Will I be disfigured?”

“Once your brother is healed you will share a bed with me,” Derek replied as if he hadn’t heard Stiles, still writing with quick and fluid motions that were almost artistic in form, “Sign here.”

Stiles hesitated, but his brother’s life was on the line. He knew his name so rather than sign an X he wrote it out in full. Derek’s eyebrow quirked and ne nodded, clearly impressed with Stiles’ ability to scratch out a few letters.

“Now,” Derek stated, “I’m going to read you what the rest of the contract says and you will _pay attention_. This is important.”

“Yes, sire,” Stiles nodded, the weight of what he’d done weighing on him.

“As I mentioned, you will grace my bed _after_ your brother’s current illness has passed. I have full confidence that Deaton can keep his regular condition under control. You will be required to partake of my hobbies, the occasional event held at the castle when they start up again, and perhaps an outing every now and then. I don’t travel much, but when I do I don’t go alone. You will be taught to ride a horse if necessary. When you join me in bed: _expect nothing_.”

“Nothing?” Stiles asked in confusion.

Derek smirked a bit, turning to face him again with hazel eyes teasing, “Nothing.”

“Okay… um… what do you… want to… do to my body?” Stiles asked, nauseated by his avoidance of the subject.

“Hold you,” Derek replied easily without a single blush, “Caress you. Kiss you, perhaps, if we form that bond. You will keep yourself clean at all times. I require a warm body in my bed and your loyalty. You will not share your body with anyone else. _No one_. Do you understand? If you do so you will violate our terms and I will dismiss you _and_ your brother.”

“So you won’t fuck me, but I can’t fuck anyone else?” Stiles frowned, “Then how will we break the curse?”

Derek waited a moment, just watching Stiles in silence, and the young man recalled what he’d said and nodded.

“You said I had it wrong, but you can’t tell me what it is exactly, but if I guess can you confirm or deny?”

“Yes.”

“So… can you get it up?”

“Yes,” Derek shrugged indifferently.

“And it… _Is_ it a monster dick?”

“No,” Derek snorted.

Stiles frowned, “Then what happened to the men who left here? The ones I talked to the servants of? Their asses were _destroyed!”_

Derek smiled, but it was anger and outrage that fueled it. A trick of the fire made his teeth look elongated, his eyebrows deeper, and his face savage. Stiles stepped backwards in horror, his heartbeat ratcheting up as instinctive, primal fear shot through him. _Predator! Run!_

“They _strayed.”_


	3. Chapter 3

Stiles’ rooms were attached to Derek’s via a passage behind a bookcase. Stiles thought it was hilarious. A small book was removed to reveal a ring that he could twist like a doorknob. It then swung out on heavy hinges, small wheels beneath it creaking across the stone floor, to reveal a dusty passage that Isaac was quickly de-webbing. Stiles skipped through it and burst forth from beneath a tapestry on Derek’s side with a loud ‘ta da!’. It entered into his bedroom rather than the sitting room Stiles had been in, a room decorated in soft grays and blues. After the third time Derek shut the door on his end and locked it out of sheer annoyance.

Stiles’ room was a single one with a folding screen to hide the chamber pot, unlike Derek’s full set of suites. Stiles wasn’t about to complain. Rather than a fireplace he had a large brazier that Isaac lit to warm his rooms. They heated up quickly and the brazier had a vent above it to let the smoke free that was small enough to keep the room clear but not big enough to freeze him out. Stiles had a rug. A _rug!_ It was thick and he could walk barefoot on it without freezing his feet! Stiles danced on it happily before climbing onto the bed to test it out. It was soft, so soft that Stiles had to flail to get back out again. Stiles was thrilled, but nothing compared to the dinner he was brought. It was small, of course, just the apple and potato that Stiles had been told the castle staff were afforded along with a single strip of dried meat. Stiles was so grateful that he said a prayer over it before slowly eating each bite despite being quite skeptical of religion in general.

Then he wept because most of the kingdom would _literally_ kill for such paltry fair. As fate would have it, Derek walked in through his ‘secret’ passage just as Stiles was licking his tears off of his fingertips.

“What happened?” Derek asked, pausing with a stack of books in his hands.

“I didn’t want to w-waste water so I was-“

“Not that,” Derek shook his head, _“_ Why are you _crying_?”

Stiles gestured to the empty plate, “Everyone else is starving.”

“You’ve had… one meal today?” Derek continued after Stiles nodded, “Technically you’re starving as well.”

“I feel full,” Stiles sniffled, “Will Scott get to eat?”

“The ill get an extra apple a day,” Derek stated, “Deaton claims they are healing in themselves. He wishes we’d get oranges, but the Yukimuras charge us more for them.”

“The Argents should pay for what they’ve done,” Stiles sniffled.

“They’re paying now,” Derek replied ominously, “I brought you some beginners books. Once you’re officially my companion I will expect you to take part in my hobbies. We’ll start with reading and I’ll teach you a musical instrument later.”

“Um…” Stiles stood up, wiping the last of his tears away, “I can sing, actually.”

“Well?” Derek asked, “I have perfect pitch. If you sing off key I’ll strangle you.”

“I’ve never compared it to someone with perfect pitch,” Stiles shrugged, “But I sang choir for years and the priest often doted on me. He admired my voice.”

“Sure he did,” Derek stated dryly, “We’ll explore that later. For now, I want you practicing your letters.”

Derek went over to the desk by Stiles’ bed and began to lay out work for him. Stiles joined him, curious and a bit excited. Like most children of working poor he’d not been to much school. He’d cooked, cleaned, minded the house, grew vegetables in the garden before the drought, and caught fish and game when possible. He’d been performing these duties for as far back as he could remember, accompanied by his mother at first and then on his own after her death. Scott had helped where he could, but during fall and winter he was mostly useless as a few steps could wind him.

“This is your alphabet,” Derek stated, “Copy it down on this slate five times each day.”

“I know that already,” Stiles insisted, “Teach me more words.”

Derek turned the pages of the book to some basic words and Stiles pointed out the ones he knew. A few pages later they reached unfamiliar ones and Derek looked relieved that he knew as much as he did. He read them to Stiles, indicated the pictures that went with them, and ordered him to write lines. Stiles sat down eagerly, taking up the chalk. He was excited to expand his knowledge.

“What other hobbies do you have besides reading, writing, and music?” Stiles asked, but when he didn’t get an answer he turned to find Derek was gone.

Stiles stood up and headed for the passage between their rooms to find that the door to Derek’s rooms was once again sealed. Stiles scowled and knocked, but Derek didn’t answer. He went around to the exit into the hallway, but to his horror that door was locked as well. Stiles banged on the door and shouted, but no one answered. He was a prisoner.


	4. Chapter 4

Days passed. In the morning Isaac brought Stiles a slice of bread and cheese, of which Stiles only ate the bread with a sliver of butter. He saved the cheese or mid-day. At night he received an apple and a potato, served however he wished based on the order given that morning. Stiles found that a fried version was his absolute favorite. Mint tea was in abundance, but most others had withered in the dry weather so Stiles sated himself with the sharp brew. The huge bath from his first day wasn’t repeated. That was reserved for special occasions according to Isaac. Instead he had a pitcher of water left by the fire to wash with each day and was told to use it sparingly, much as he did at home. It was refreshed every two days. Stiles wrote and tried to learn to read. Derek visited daily to teach him fresh lessons, spending hours with him each day and bringing him word of Scott’s recuperation. Derek had little patience for teaching Stiles and Stiles found that sitting still for lengthy periods of time was difficult for him. At one point Derek became enraged and shouted at him, storming from the room and leaving Stiles once again locked away and uncertain of his or Scott’s future. Stiles barely slept that night, but the next day Derek showed up as if nothing had happened. Stiles had rushed at him and thrown his arms around his neck, apologizing profusely even though he internally maintained that he had done nothing wrong. He’d peppered his face with kisses, hoping that his purpose as Derek’s ‘companion’ would lead to resolution. Derek brushed his words and embrace aside and sat down to resume where they’d left off as I nothing had happened.

Finally a day came where a knock came to his prison door from the _outer_ door and Stiles walked over to it in confusion.

“Um… come in?” Stiles tried.

A key turned in the lock and Derek entered from the hall rather than his private entrance. He stepped fully in and motioned behind him. Stiles squealed unashamedly as Scott walked in with color in his cheeks! Stiles threw his arms around his brother, hugging him tightly as the young man laughed happily. Stiles dragged him to the chairs on either side of the brazier and pushed him into one.

“How have you been?” Stiles demanded, “How have they treated you? Is Deaton scary? Are you locked up, too? Did you-“

“Locked up?” Scott spat out in alarm.

“Yeah, I’m living in the nicest prison cell in Beacon Hills,” Stiles shrugged, “But what about-“

“You _locked him up?!”_ Scott stood up, anger radiating through his body.

“Scott, I-“

To Stiles’ absolute shock Scott let out an inhuman cry and charged at Derek. Stiles grabbed at him, but he moved too quickly. Derek grabbed his shirt front and held him at bay with his feet barely trailing the floor while Scott did his level best to slap at him with fingers twisting in rage. He almost looked as if he was trying to claw him, but that was madness.

“Scott! Calm down! I’m fine! Sire, don’t hurt him, please!” Stiles pleaded, shocked by the younger man’s behavior.

“Calm down!” Derek roared in Scott’s face, and to Stiles’ shock it did calm him. Scott went limp in Derek’s grip, “Back to Deaton.”

“No, please!” Scott pleaded, “I want to see my brother!”

“Not until you control your eyes!”

Stiles cocked his head to one side in confusion. His… eyes? Why? What had Scott seen? Stiles was behind Scott, so he should be able to see something if Scott were looking into the hall but there was nothing there.

Scott and Derek went still while Stiles stood still in fear. He didn’t want to interfere and get Scott hurt, but the second he could get Scott away he was going to run. They’d done something to Scott to cause this sudden rage, something terrifying and Stiles needed to get him to safety! His health was pointless if these strange people were twisting Scott.

“Better,” Derek lowered Scott back down from his toes and released his shirt. He reached up and stroked down Scott’s cheek, smiling softly as if fond of him, “I’d never hurt your brother. He’s been locked up for his safety. You remember what Deaton told you about the moon?”

“Yes,” Scott nodded, stepping backwards without turning, “I’m sorry. I just… this is all new and strange and…”

“You remember your _promise_?” Derek asked again.

“Yes,” Scott let out another slow breath, sounding relieved and more like himself.

“Then stay calm and you can visit for an hour. After that Deaton wants you back in his clinic.”

Scott took another slow, deep breath and Stiles practically held his own at the ease with which his lungs worked. Perhaps he had to give this another chance? His freedom was nothing to Scott’s health, and now that they’d both calmed down Derek didn’t look so terrifying and Scott wasn’t snarling anymore. When Scott turned again he looked contrite.

“I’m sorry, Stiles. I’ve been… it’s been difficult being away from you.”

Scott returned to his side and wrapped his arms around Stiles, hugging him tightly as Stiles whispered, “I’ve missed you, brother.”

“Me, too,” Scott replied, “Deaton’s been amazing, though.”

Scott stepped back and smiled at Stiles, “He’s going to teach me to be a healer like my mother was.”

“A… male healer?” Stiles asked in shock, “I mean, he’s obviously special, but-“

“In his country men are often healers,” Scott grinned broadly, “He’s from far to the north. That’s why his skin looks different. Everyone there looks like that. He showed me pictures and they’re beautiful. I can contribute to society. I can save lives, Stiles.”

“You can make your own medicine!” Stiles crowed.

Scott laughed, “He cured me of both ailments. I’ll never have to struggle or take medicine again.”

Stiles’ heart lurched and he looked to Derek in awe.

“This is why I had you wait,” Derek stated, “Now that Scott is no longer leverage you and your brother are free to go.”

“The curse?” Stiles asked, “It can’t have been broken that easily?”

“I’m afraid not,” Derek replied, “It’s your choice if you stay. Your brother may train under Deaton regardless of your decision. The town needs a new healer now that Melissa is gone, and while there are other Peacekeepers it strikes me that you would be an amazing one. Perhaps it was even your wish?”

Stiles frowned and shook his head, “You held up your end of the bargain. I told you that if you kept him alive I’d be grateful for the rest of my life, and I meant it. I’m keeping my contract.”

“Stiles,” Scott whispered, taking his hand, “You don’t have to do this. He’s letting you _go_.”

“Into a land that is _slowly dying_. If I can help ease our country’s pain than I will. I’m going to break this curse if it’s the last thing I do.”

“I hate it when you say things like that,” Scott groaned.

“Besides,” Stiles gave Derek a calculated glance, “That was _totally_ a test. Was it a part of the curse?”

“Yes to both,” Derek nodded and stepped forward to hand Stiles the key to his room, “Come and see me when you’re through visiting your brother.”


	5. Chapter 5

Stiles knocked on the door between their chambers this time, understanding that Derek had done more for him than he’d ever expected. He wanted to thank him but had no idea how to go about it, although he obviously had some ideas. His stomach felt odd and fluttery. Derek opened the door beneath the tapestry and gestured for Stiles to enter. Stiles walked in and turned to face him as Derek let the fabric fall back in place. When Derek turned Stiles hurried forward and dropped to his knees before him. Derek paused, frowning down at him.

“What are you doing?”

Stiles’ hands were shaking as they lifted to rest anxiously on Derek’s thighs. He stared up at him through his eyelashes and licked his lips before leaning forward to nuzzle at his groin. Derek’s scent was heavy here, musky and spicy like the herbs he bathed in. Stiles pressed a kiss to his groin and reached for the laces of his trousers, but Derek’s voice stopped him.

“Stop,” He ordered, his voice thick with lust.

Stiles hesitated. On one hand, the man might be testing him again. On the other, his prince had given him an order and while he hadn’t been able to _read_ the contract, he’d verbally specified that there would be no sex. He might actually be serious about that, even if Stiles thought he was not.

Stiles pulled away and looked up at Derek, his breath catching as guilt made him queasy. Derek’s voice wasn’t trembling with _desire_ it was shaking with _fear_. Derek’s face was pale, his eyes wide, and his hands gripped into fists. If it had been a test it was if Stiles would stop on his own, because Derek was clearly restraining himself from beating him senseless and more than had the muscle to do so.

“I’m… I’m sorry,” Stiles whispered, hurrying to his feet and backing away.

“Have you forgotten that I told you to expect nothing sexual from me?” Derek asked coldly.

“I thought it was a trick. Another test.”

“You smell like fear and anxiety,” Derek told him, nose wrinkled in disgust, “I don’t want your body. Not like this.”

“Than _how_ do I break the damn curse?!”

“I can’t answer that,” Derek replied, waving his hand dismissively, “It’s too vague.”

“Does the curse prevent you from touching me?” Stiles asked quickly.

“No.”

“Sexually?”

“No.”

“Does it make you not want sex?”

“ _No!_ ” Derek snapped, and then paused, his face twisted as he hesitated to speak up.

Stiles recognized restrained words. Derek didn’t always speak what was on his mind, and Stiles suspected it wasn’t related to the curse. It seemed more that he was reticent to discuss things that might be used against him. Derek was a man who had been betrayed, and the clauses in the contract spoke highly of this aspect of his history. Stiles just _had_ to learn to read so he could go over it word-for-word. He was certain he’d promised to do more than Derek had explained, and quite possibly there were clues to the curse in there that Stiles was unable to discover until he could decipher the words.

“Do you… do you _not_ want sex? Like, at all?”

“No,” Derek’s shoulders tensed, “I don’t.”

“Do you… were you raped?”

Derek’s face did complicated things, “No. I’ve just… I don’t see the _point_. It’s messy and tiring. I could exercise and get the same rush without as much mess. I could dance with a partner and have far more fun _with music!_ I can wrap my arms around someone and hold them for _hours,_ read to them, play them a song, with a deeper connection than a few wanton thrusts!”

Derek’s tirade had him pacing his room, arms cutting sharp gestures with each point. Stiles stood still, considering his words and watching him as his tirade brought out the fire inside the man’s belly. His eyes flashed in the firelight, strangely appearing _blue_ and shining. Hazel eyes were strange like that. More than that, it lit a fire in Stiles. Desire curled in his belly, but that wasn’t what Derek wanted from him.

“That sounds beautiful. Will you show me?” Stiles asked.

Derek paused mid-rant, mouth open and gave Stiles a shocked look.

“You want a companion, yes?” Stiles asked, “Someone you can be intimate with without the demand of sex?”

“Yes?”

“Then,” Stiles suggested gently, “You want a… friend?”

“Yes and no,” Derek stated hesitantly, “It requires more than that… my needs, that is, not the curse. What I ask for is far more intimate than friendship, but not the same type of intimacy as intercourse. It’s… I can’t explain it.”

“Why not have this with a servant?” Stiles asked, looking for a loophole, “Or a slave? They’re already indebted to you and won’t leave on a whim. Why pursue snotty baron’s sons who are more likely to make demands on you? Or village men who won’t understand because they see you as a sex symbol?”

“Because I _tried_ servants,” Derek growled, “Don’t you think I have? It’s been _years_ , Stiles; long before my marriage to Queen Kate. I have always felt this way and no one understands! I form friendships only to be called too clingy. I develop relationships only to be shamed for not wanting to have my body violated on their whim!”

Stiles nodded and sat down on the edge of his bed, “Isaac? I see the way he looks at you. Admiration. Love, even. If you explained-”

“He and I can’t connect,” Derek replied softly, “He’s kept my loneliness at bay by sharing my bed the way I’ve asked you to, and we are closer than friends, but the curse doesn’t break. Neither does how damned empty my life feels.”

Derek leaned against his desk and ran his fingers over a book absently, “I wish it were as simple as making a friend, but what I need is more complicated. I had that with Brandon. He was sweet. Beautiful. He was from Deaton’s land and others didn’t understand. They saw his dark skin and thought that he was dirty, but he wasn’t. He was gorgeous.”

“You still admire physical form?” Stiles asked in confusion.

“I see their beauty,” Derek replied sharply, “Without lusting after them. Do you feel lust for a flower or sculpture?”

“You said before you could get it up?” Stiles asked again.

“I can,” Derek shrugged, “Sometimes I slake that urge, but I prefer to do so alone. No one touches me the right way. It’s faster and easier to do it myself. Utilitarian, for stress relief or to help me sleep. It’s boring and confusing to have to play sex games with people. All that ridiculous chatter? How do you do it?”

“Virgin,” Stiles pointed to his chest in amusement, “And I guess staying that way. Wait, is that why Brandon didn’t work out?”

Derek nodded, eyes shining as he clearly fought back tears, “He left me for someone who could give him what I couldn’t. I can force myself to have sex, but-“

“No one should be forcing you to have sex,” Stiles snarled out, “That’s rape, Derek.”

“I said I can force _myself_ -“

“Because others want you to? Still sounds like rape.”

Derek’s eyes slid sideways, “It’s complicated.”

“Like the curse?”

“Yes.”

“Is the curse tied to this… sexuality of yours?”

“I can only assume so,” Derek replied with a shrug, “At the very least it complicates things, but I’m honestly not sure. I don’t know every aspect, only what I’ve figured out over time.”

“When the people you share yourself with understand, when you make that connection, that’s when it rains?”

“Yes.”

“Except it rained _every time_ someone came here! Whatever you did with them, we have to recreate!”

“I assure you, it didn’t,” Derek sighed, “People showed up here frequently, Stiles. I was often in the midst of relationships at the time, with Brandon or the people before him. There were people I connected with and people I didn’t. Most of the villagers who showed up here I sent to the Yukimuras after spending a mere few minutes in their company talking about why they sought fit to sacrifice themselves. They were desperate and the Yukimuras are accepting emigrants. I pushed them to the top of the list rather than send them home to die. I’d have done the same with you and your brother if you’d decided to leave.”

“Then… then what brings the rain?” Stiles asked.

“Brandon,” Derek replied softly, “Off and on for a time.”

“It was a year ago?” Stiles asked, and continued when Derek nodded, “I remember that. We thought the drought had broken, but it dried up again suddenly.”

“He got _bored_. I’m boring, Stiles, and before you ask it’s not even a part of the fucking curse.”

Stiles gawked at hearing royalty use peasant slang, “Dude! I can’t believe you said fuck!”

Derek’s eyes narrowed, “Familiar is one thing. ‘Dude’ is another. You may call me Derek when we are alone.”

“Yeah, fair enough,” Stiles started for the desk and picked up the book Derek had been caressing, “So let’s get this thing started. You said reading to your partner was how you made love? So read to me. I like your voice, anyway.”

Derek, to Stiles’ absolute delight and shock, _smiled_ at him.

It was beautiful.

Also _bunny teeth!_


	6. Chapter 6

Stiles had spent most of the day in bed with Prince Derek Hale. It sounded squeal-worthy and absolutely boner inducing, but so far Derek had lived up to his word. He was completely uninterested in plundering Stiles’ skinny, virginal body. Instead they stripped down and Derek had Stiles wear one of his nightdresses. It was made of the softest material Stiles had ever felt and covered him from shoulder to toes in a shapeless drape. Derek wore them to sleep, apparently, because anyone with brains would be wearing them _everywhere_ and apparently Derek was brain dead. Stiles did a few spins, enjoying the way the material felt on his skin and Derek laughed. He pulled the young man into his bed, settled him against his side, and tolerated Stiles snuggling against him happily.

“Wow, you are, like, really warm and these dress things are _cozy!_ Can I touch you in not-sexy ways? _”_

“Yes. You don’t have night clothes?”

“We’re poor. We wear our under things to bed, but that’s it,” Stiles laughed, “And those we wash whenever it’s warm enough. We, like, spot clean our outer clothes because if we wash them enough they’d fall apart, you know?”

“I… really don’t, but I suspected as much based on how you smelled when you showed up.”

“Are you kidding?” Stiles scoffed, “I scrubbed before showing up!”

“Not your clothes.”

“Yes, my clothes!”

“Ugh,” Derek groaned, “When you leave me remind me to gift you with soap.”

Stiles laughed and Derek put an arm around him so he could hold the book where they both could see. Stiles only recognized a few words, but what Derek read and _how_ he read it made it difficult to focus on learning to read. Derek’s voice was soft and flowed as he described a world Stiles had never even heard of. Every character jumped off the page and landed directly in Stiles’ heart. He found himself gripping the blankets as he listened with baited breath to every single word. When they were through three chapters Stiles was completely gone on being read to, but Derek sighed, placed a strip of fabric in between the pages, and shut the book.

“No, but… what happens to Jordan and Lydia?!” Stiles shouted, “Does she find out what he is? Does _he_ find out what _he_ is _?!_ Is he going to defy her parents to-“

“Stiles!” Derek laughed, “We’ll read more tomorrow. We can’t spend the whole day in bed. I want the tailor to take a look at you and I’m planning on having supper with my sister.”

“Supper with the queen,” Stiles shook his head, “Wait, you broke your fast twice already. Bread this morning and you had cheese while we read. How many times to rich people eat a day?”

“Three times,” Derek replied easily.

“That’s outrageous,” Stiles shook his head, “See? Learned a new word.”

“Spell it.”

Stiles gave him an offended look and Derek laughed lightly, “Come on. Let’s get you dressed so the tailor can get you dressed.”

“Can’t I just wear this forever?” Stiles whined, rubbing his hands across his chest and shoulders, “It’s _so soft_!”

“Tell the tailor that you like soft clothes and we’ll see what he can do,” Derek teased.

Stiles climbed into the borrowed staff clothing he’d been wearing and Isaac took him down to the tailor. As he was exiting his rooms Derek was leaving his own, and Stiles paused to admire the man’s physique in full, regal clothing. He was wearing a high-waisted black jacket with gold buttons and trim. His pants were tight as sin and just as dark. Stiles swallowed hard as his cock twitched in his pants. Snuggling with him had felt innocent when they’d been reading, especially after their conversation, but seeing him like this brought back the reality of prince and pauper, and the romantic entanglement he’d expected to be in.

“I know,” Isaac sighed, “It’s tragic.”

“It’s his body,” Stiles pulled his eyes away, “Let’s go get mine some new _soft_ clothes!”

Stiles was measured while nearly nude, with Isaac present and watching anxiously from the sidelines. He stepped in when the tailor went to measure Stiles’ inseam, urging him to hurry for some reason. Stiles understood why. He was worried the man would find out that Stiles was blessed, but most people didn’t notice the little folds of flesh between his thighs. His balls, while shockingly small, still managed to hide it from the front, and his bubble butt from the back. Even with his legs apart they’d have to be _looking_ for it.

Finally he had his measurements and Stiles was returned to his rooms where he was _not_ locked in. That meant he stayed there for a total of two seconds before he checked the hall, saw Isaac wasn’t guarding it, and scampered down it to explore the castle. Stiles saw rooms full of books, a dusty dance hall, and three empty bedrooms before he was well and fully lost. He found his way down to the stables eventually and was standing there shivering while stroking a cow’s nose when Derek located him.

“We have a couple of horses still,” Derek spoke, startling him, “We used to have many, but we had to sell most of them. No point in keeping them, really. We employ people in town to transport goods. It benefits everyone. Mostly we just try to keep the cows happy and making milk.”

“Shouldn’t they be _warm_ then?” Stiles chattered.

“They have fur,” Derek replied with a light laugh, “And if you were wearing _clothes_ you’d be warm, too.”

Stiles glanced down at the long nightgown of Derek’s that he’d stolen from his room to wear on his castle escapade. He’d had to hold it up to keep it from getting dung on it and his legs were covered in gooseflesh despite the stockings and his old boots beneath.

“They’re awesome and I love them,” Stiles replied, “I’m keeping them.”

“I noticed,” Derek snickered, sliding an arm around his waist, “The tailor says you spent the entire time there stroking the stockings he had in stock and asking if you could have them made into clothes. He worries you’re a deviant.”

“Did you tell him I’m your platonic lover who you debauch with literature?” Stiles flirted.

“New words?”

“Don’t ask me to spell them, asshole, I’m still learning.”

Derek chuckled again and scooped Stiles up, “Say goodbye to the cows, Stiles.”

“Bye moo cows!” Stiles waved, “I’m a fan of what you do!”

The cows mooed and Stiles kicked his feet happily, laughing at their apparent response. Derek laughed along with him, but was cut off by a man clearing his throat. Derek went still and actually _growled_. Stiles froze in surprise and studied the man before him. He looked very similar to Derek, but was clearly a couple decades older. He was smiling at Stiles as if he were made from one of the cows they’d just left behind.

“Uncle Peter,” Derek growled out through clenched teeth.

“My dear nephew,” Peter purred, “Who _is_ your charming new… _companion_.”


	7. Chapter 7

Something in the way Derek was reacting and Lord Peter’s emphasis on the word ‘companion’ had Stiles’ heart pounding in fear. His hand on Derek’s neck clamped down and the other gripped Derek’s lapel. The prince’s heart began to thump hard beneath his hand and Stiles wanted to whimper but refused to look weak before this stranger. He swallowed down his fear and gave him an insulted glare instead.

“He is of no concern to you,” Derek stated firmly, doing a far better job at looking unconcerned than Stiles was, “Mind your own business, uncle.”

“Your business _is_ my business,” Lord Peter’s voice was oily and made Stiles want a wash.

“Good day, Uncle,” Derek replied dryly, moving around the large man and heading down the hall with Stiles still held tight in his arms.

“Is _he_ a part of the curse?” Stiles asked in a restrained whisper.

Derek replied firmly, “He is a curse in and of himself.”

Derek headed straight back to his own rooms, slammed and locked the door while easily juggling Stiles’ form in his arms, and threw the slender man down onto his bed. Stiles gasped in surprise, especially when Derek stripped off his jacket and climbed up on top of Stiles with an angry growl. Stiles scampered back but Derek grabbed his ankle and dragged him down, pulling the nightclothes up his body until his naked lower half was exposed. Stiles knew he should have worn his underthings when leaving their rooms, but he had been so comfortable in Derek’s nightgown and felt so naughty slinking about that the nudity beneath the light fabric felt just as exciting. Now he was sorely regretting it as his cock firmed up just as Derek climbed over his body. Stiles stilled beneath the man, body as stiff as his length, and barely breathed as Derek began to rub his chin across Stiles’ neck and shoulders.

“You will never be alone with that man, do you understand me?” Derek growled.

“Y-yes,” Stiles gasped, trying to edge his hips away.

Derek didn’t seem to realize that his weight was settled down on top of a _very_ aroused Stiles Stilinski. Instead he was focused on pressing himself against the younger man as if he could keep him as his companion by making a physical impression of him in his own bed. Stiles was gasping, his inexperienced body hyper-sensitive as he writhed with desire. Derek vacated his position so suddenly that Stiles was left panting, erection leaking against his body as he fought to come down from his near-orgasmic experience. When Stiles was finally able to open his eyes without sobbing in agony he found Derek kneeling there looking uncomfortable as he watched Stiles’ trembling form.

“I’m… I’m sorry,” Stiles panted, “I don’t have your needs. My own overwhelmed me.”

Stiles pushed the nightgown down, bunching it at his hip as he slowly shifted to sit up. His face was flushed in shame but Derek didn’t scold him. He took his hand and squeezed it gently.

“I know you have needs,” Derek replied softly, “Give me time and maybe I can meet them. I don’t touch men I barely know.”

Stiles shook his head briskly, “I don’t ask people to touch me who don’t desire to do so. I’m a virgin, Derek. It means I’m more sensitive, but it also means I don’t know what I’m missing out on. I’m okay with never knowing if it means our country is safe again. I won’t stray. I won’t go near Creepy Pete-“

“Creepy Pete?” Derek laughed incredulously, his eyebrows raising as Stiles once more shifted the mood in the room.

“-Well, he is, and don’t think I have no idea who he is. It’s obvious that he’s been luring your past lovers away. No interest for me. None. He’s weird and I like him _far_ away. He… he doesn’t have a room near here, does he?”

“No,” Derek assured Stiles, giving his hand another gentle squeeze, “He’s a floor away.”

“Good,” Stiles nodded, “He’s not welcome to touch _any_ of this, but you are. I’ll try to control my body.”

Derek pressed a kiss to the back of Stiles’ hand, “I’ll try to control mine. I shouldn’t have pinned you down like that so soon in our relationship. It was too much too soon. I just wanted to keep you all to myself and pressing you to my bed seemed the right way at the moment.”

Stiles smiled softly, “Well, it was certainly inspired. Lovers in my village leave marks on each other’s necks. Love bites. Maybe you should try that instead, if it doesn’t repulse you?”

Derek looked tempted, “Will you be able to contain yourself?”

“I…” Stiles blushed brightly, “I don’t think so.”

Derek gave him a sad look and Stiles quickly backpedaled, “I can learn to! Is… is masturbation forbidden? I won’t think of another. I won’t think of _anything_.”

“You can touch yourself,” Derek smiled sadly, “It’s your body, Stiles. I’m not going to forbid you to touch yourself, and you can think of whoever you want.”

“Will it affect the curse if… if I think of you?” Stiles wondered.

“No,” Derek assured him, “It won’t even effect how I think of you.”

“Really?” Stiles asked in relief.

Derek nodded.

“Can I… can you give me a few minutes?” Stiles asked, moving towards the edge of the bed.

Derek growled and lunged at him and Stiles shrieked in horror, arms flying over his face as Derek’s teeth and eyes seemed to change before him. His arousal, annoyingly enough, wasn’t the least bit dissuaded. In fact, it burgeoned and Stiles found himself panting on the edge of orgasm once again. His cock ached but he couldn’t lower his arms because he was slowly beginning to realize that he really _did_ have the curse wrong. It wasn’t just the country that was cursed, it was Derek as well, and he suspected that Scott had been brought into it.

“Th-that wasn’t a trick of the light,” Stiles whimpered.

“Stiles,” Derek’s fingers didn’t contain claws as they touched his arms, “It’s okay. I’m sorry. I won’t hurt you.”

Stiles lowered his arms and stared at Derek in shock. His face was strange now. Animalistic. Teeth protruded from behind his lips and his beard had become more like fur. His eyes glowed a brilliant blue that lit from within as if a willow-the-wisp had landed behind his eyes. As Stiles watched with wide eyes the features slowly drew away to become normal.

“I’m sorry,” Derek whispered, “I’ve never reacted to someone so strongly before. I can usually contain that side of myself. Are you okay? I didn’t mean to frighten you.”

“I…” Stiles wanted to point out that he wasn’t _just_ frightened, but he didn’t want to upset Derek again, “I’m okay.”

“I need you to stay in my rooms,” Derek told him as his face slowly changed back, “I’m feeling territorial right now. He seduced my last lover away from me and I don’t want to lose you. It’s only been a few days and I’m…”

“Shocked?” Stiles suggested.

Derek nodded, “I don’t usually get this attached this quickly.”

“Maybe I’m the one?” Stiles suggested with a sassy smirk.

“Why the hell aren’t your running?” Derek asked with a heavy sigh of frustration, “You’re clearly brave, but even a brave person would be running.”

“Erection,” Stiles admitted, gesturing to where the clothes were gathered at his groin.

“ _That_ should be gone in the face of danger,” Derek pointed to his own face, letting it transform again.

Stiles reached out and cupped his cheek, noting that it felt rougher than before, “ _You_ aren’t the danger. You’ve shown me nothing but kindness, protection, nurturing, and this intense martyr syndrome you have. Peter set my alarms off. _He_ scared me. You don’t. You surprised and frightened me, but you don’t scare me.”

Derek hesitated a moment and then leaned in closer, “Can I kiss you?”

“I…” Stiles hesitated and Derek withdrew, eyes sad, “It’s just that I’m seriously excited right now and it’s not going away. I don’t know how I’ll react if I kiss you.”

Derek bit his lip in consideration, “I’ll give you a moment, but… stay here.”

“No where else I want to be,” Stiles admitted.

Stiles sat up and moved towards Derek’s chamber pot, but he immediately blocked him, “Just stay in my bed, Stiles.”

“But that mess you hate so much…” Stiles shifted uncomfortably.

“Let it get on the sheets,” Derek replied, “Knowing your desire happened here will sooth my wild side. I want the scent here.”

“That’s so gross, but _so hot!”_ Stiles panted, scrambling back into the bed.

Stiles shifted up the soft clothes he was wearing, licked his palm, and wrapped his hand around his turgid flesh. He was so hard it felt like bone rather than flesh, and the desire that went through him left him gasping. He put his other hand over his mouth to stop his cries, but it was soon evident that he’d need his other hand. Stiles promised himself that at least no words would escape and shifted his heels up to his bare ass. Derek was by the desk writing, apparently unaffected by Stiles’ frantic tugging, and though Stiles watched he him he didn’t even stiffen when Stiles’ fingers slid inside the special entrance. Stiles was wet and hot between his thighs, and though reaching it was awkward for him it was also deeply satisfying. He thrust two fingers into his cunt while tugging on his hard on until the pleasure surpassed the tenseness that had left him so painfully aroused. His cries were now uncontrollable. While his adolescent body had felt such urgency, his adult one had never felt such ardor when touching himself. Derek’s scent on the pillows was surely the cause, and his prior touch the flame that lit Stiles’ body on fire. Stiles refused to shout his name. It would only upset him and Stiles _would_ respect Derek’s boundaries. Derek shifted in the seat and Stiles’ mind went wild, picturing him on top of Stiles again, rutting and groaning as he pleasured himself on Stiles. He pictured what Derek’s face would look like as an orgasm built in his loins. He longed to be the cause of his release, but what he could have was his own. Stiles rolled onto his belly and rutted into the mattress. He groaned long and low as his body convulsed in pleasure, seed pumping from his body as wetness drenched the bed beneath him. When he finally went still one shoulder and both hands were cramped. Derek waited a few more seconds and then put down his quill and headed over.

“Are you sated?” He asked.

“Mm, yeah,” Stiles sighed contentedly, and then shook himself out of his stupor, “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” He laughed lightly, “I’m no prude, just uninterested.”

“I’m glad,” Stiles breathed, “Because that’s the best me-time I’ve ever had and I’m loathe to give it up.”

“I’m glad you enjoyed it,” Derek laughed, sitting down beside him on the bed.

“I, uh, made a mess,” Stiles shifted up, exposing it to the room and giving Derek a guilty glance.

Derek’s nose twitched curiously, “Fascinating. It smells like both a woman and a man. In fact the woman side smells stronger…”

To Stiles’ absolute horror Derek leaned down and sniffed curiously, “I thought so. You’re so excited because you’re fertile right now.”

“Great,” Stiles sighed, rolling his eyes, “My menses will be in a fortnight then. Prepare for Cranky Stiles.”

“Cranky Stiles?”

“Cranky and Crampy Stiles,” Stiles replied, “I’ll take long walks. It helps with the cramps, but nothing helps with the cranky.”

“That’s too bad,” Derek frowned, “What about rubbing your shoulders?”

“Uh…”

“Or your feet since you’ll be walking so much?”

“You’d do that?”

“Of course,” Derek replied, stroking his cheek gently, “It’s my joy to take care of you.”

“You are absolutely a dream come true,” Stiles shook his head.

“Except for…” Derek glanced back down at the wetness on his bed and sheets.

“That,” Stiles pecked a kiss to Derek’s cheek, “Is _nothing_ to other people’s baggage. Melissa’s first husband _beat_ her when he drank and drank whenever he was awake as much as not.”

Derek frowned, “I would _never_ beat you.”

“I know,” Stiles replied fondly.

Derek leaned forward and soft lips, sharp teeth, and course fur brushed against Stiles’ lips.

XXX

The tailor must have worked all night long to create Stiles’ clothes, and it showed in the lines in his face as he held them up proudly. It was just one single outfit- a dining outfit, he explained- but it was enough that Stiles would have casual clothes to wear outside of his and Derek’s chambers that weren’t a servant’s uniform. It was also made of the softest material Stiles had ever touched outside of the stockings he wore. This time Derek helped Stiles dress while Isaac fussed in obvious offense that his lord was doing servant’s work. Stiles knew it was yet another excuse to touch him as the man had slept with Stiles gripped so tighyuutly in his arms as to be uncomfortable. He was desperately lonely. A big bear of a man who needed a snuggly toy in his bed, and just so happened to want that doll to be a living, breathing human being. Stiles had soothed him with gentle caresses along his arms and sang him to sleep. Derek had _not_ complained about his voice.

“Can you make more quickly?” Derek asked, “I realize this was already a task, sir, but in three days time the Yukimuras will visit to determine how great our need is. I want Stiles by my side at that event, but he must be dressed appropriately for presentation to royalty.”

“Three days will be enough time,” The man replied easily, “So long as you and your family are set for clothing as well?”

“We should be,” Derek replied, “Our family isn’t the sort to wait until the last moment, but I suppose there will be the inevitable alteration required.”

“Only young Cora requested clothing of me,” The tailor worried.

“I have some and Laura likely has dozens,” Derek replied, “We are not so spoilt in this economy as to afford new outfits with each occasion. She will likely ask you to alter and clean ones she already has. Isaac has already checked mine and found them suitable and still well fitting. Only Princess Cora is still growing and refuses to wear Laura’s hideous hand downs. ”

“Will Scott be there?” Stiles asked eagerly as he stood on a stool and admired himself in the reflection of a mirror wheeled in for that purpose. It was a simple garb in a dark grey that wasn’t particularly flattering. It was rather basic, in fact, but that was probably due to being hurried. It was still nicer than anything else Stiles had ever even seen his class of people wear and he felt extravagant.

“I’m afraid not,” Derek soothed, “He is Deaton’s apprentice, not a member of the royal family or one of our consorts.”

“Will _he_ be there?” Stiles frowned, knowing Derek would know the reference.

“Yes, and I will make sure he doesn’t touch you,” Derek growled.

Stiles checked to see if his eyes were flashing, but the people in the room were apparently already aware of them because they just kept working as if nothing were amiss.

“I was thinking a soft blue for him,” The tailor replied.

Derek shook his head, “I’ll be in black and orange. I’d prefer him in dark blue.”

“A light blue would be more appropriate for his feminine role in your bed,” The tailor boldly suggested.

“He is no soft flower,” Derek snorted, “He will wear bold colors as they complement his complexion and strong jaw line. My beautiful companion.”

This last was said as Derek stroked his jaw and smiled up at him where Stiles stood on the stool stroking down his own torso in enjoyment.

“Derek, _feel_!” Stiles crowed, “It’s so soft!”

Derek’s hands wandered down Stiles’ torso, lighting a fire in their wake that the asexual man had no understanding of. Stiles smiled fondly down at him. The prince wasn’t the only one smitten. He was falling for the brilliant, haunted man as easily as a fairy tale prince. Derek’s eyes were soft with joy as he smiled up at Stiles. The tailor looked disgusted, but Stiles was fully prepared to ignore him completely.

“You look and feel lovely, Stiles. You’ll be the envy of the ball.”

Stiles gasped dramatically, “It’s a _ball?!”_

Derek laughed, “Near enough. There will be dancing.”

Derek grasped Stiles’ waist and moved him from stool to floor. He placed a hand on Stiles’ hip and the other held the slender man’s hand up in the air. He moved him across the floor as easily as if he were made of paper instead of bone and sinew. Stiles laughed happily as Derek waltzed with him, unsure of where to put his feet but allowing the manipulation anyway. If he let his mind fall aside he knew Derek would take care of him. The man was desperate to care for him. Hungry for it. Starved. Stiles wasn’t far behind.

“You’ll finally _take me_ dancing?” Stiles asked, smiling into his eyes and willing the man to hear the double entendre.

“Oh, I’ll take you,” Derek growled, dipping Stiles sharply and grasping a thigh to raise it up into the air when Stiles didn’t do so himself, “To the library.”

“You pest!” Stiles laughed.

“Trollop.”

“Your very own boy whore!” Stiles cackled.

Derek straightened them up and stroked his knuckles down his cheek gently, “I want to discuss your position here with you.”

As if that were a code word in a play the tailor and Isaac abruptly disappeared, moving so swiftly that Stiles felt a breeze from Isaac’s departure. He glanced around the empty room in surprise but Derek brought his attention back when he cupped the back of his neck.

“Your role here is one that many will criticize. You will be looked down on. Ignore them. Hold your head up high. You have every right to be by my side. My sister had already done away with the laws against sodomy after my courtship of men started, but-“

“So even she doesn’t know?” Stiles asked in surprise.

“That I prefer my lovers to be chaste? Yes, but that doesn’t mean that I have never had or never again will have sex. I find it dull at best and disgusting at worse. Should you continue to woo me as you have- stop laughing, wicked sprite- I may find myself willing to touch you. I doubt I will ever want you touching me, and it’s unlikely that my desire will be as intense as what Lydia and Jordan experienced in the book we read together. You may be disappointed.”

“I don’t want you forcing yourself to do something with me,” Stiles replied sincerely, “That sounds far more filthy than me being your kept boy. I don’t know what I’m missing and I’m fine with that.”

“Stiles,” Derek nuzzled their noses together gently, “I view it as another type of caress. It’s just one that is special, that I rarely engage in because it isn’t always what I want. I promise you: I won’t even attempt it if it turns out to be something that one or both of us do not desire.”

“I think my desire of you is obvious,” Stiles replied guiltily.

“Shh, there’s no shame in lusting after someone, even someone who can’t return your desires. Just tell me if it becomes too much. If your lust ever leads you to do something that will hurt me I want to know first.”

“I’d _never_ hurt you.”

“I hate that I believe you,” Derek replied, a bit of anger in his voice, “I’ve been hurt enough before to know better. Yet you’re so ridiculously sincere and innocent.”

“Says the guy who doesn’t like sex,” Stiles rolled his eyes, stepping back a bit, “I’m not the _least_ bit innocent. Inexperienced, yes, but not innocent.”


	8. Chapter 8

Derek wasn’t just warm and cuddly. He was the absolute warmest and cuddliest person on the planet. He still growled and snarled at Stiles when he shifted around in bed, but once Derek dropped off to sleep his snarls were only half-hearted so Stiles was unbothered. Sometimes he’d poke him in the ribs just to hear him let out a soft growl of irritation because frankly it was a serious turn on for him. At first Stiles tried to sneak away in the early morning since he was used to rising with the sun and Derek was apparently used to rising whenever the hell Isaac finished his chores and showed up to dress the lazy cad. Sadly, Asleep Derek wouldn’t let him leave the bed. He could escape to pee occasionally, jerking off into the chamber pot to relieve himself further in the morning, but only by waking him up and insisting on it. Otherwise, once Derek started to snore softly Stiles was confined to the bed for the night and most of the morning. Stiles had taken to keeping things by the bedside so he could practice his letters in bed while Derek lay with his head on the human’s lower back and the rest of him wrapped around Stiles like an octopus. Derek complained about chalk in the bed, but when Stiles pointed out that he was being held hostage Derek had gone red and stopped fussing.

Their days were now spent mostly together, with Derek departing his company to meet with his sister every day around the same time but spending most of his time in his rooms with Stiles. When Derek was busy with paperwork he would have Stiles sit at the desk with him and work on letters, grumbling if Stiles interrupted him for help but acquiescing each time. When he had to leave for a meeting on the second day Stiles was bored out of his mind and set about exploring again. He was in proper clothes this time and didn’t run into ‘Creepy Pete’ again. He did, however, get lost again. This time Isaac found him and returned him to Derek who spent an hour rubbing all over him to leave his scent on Stiles again. Stiles petted his hair and pressed kisses to his hands and cheeks and just generally basked in his attention.

Derek lived to read to Stiles. It was clearly one of his passions and he truly made the characters come to life. Every story needed more description according to Derek, who decided to give them far more details than they actually had. Stiles had started picking up on it when he realized they’d been on the same page for a good part of the morning with Derek elaborately describing each outfit the ladies were wearing and the very specks in a man’s eyes. Stiles had called him on it and he’d told him to shut up so he didn’t forget where he was. Then he’d turned the page and _finally_ gotten on with the plot. Derek was a book tease.

Derek also danced with Stiles for part of every day, focusing on teaching him but occasionally just losing himself to the music Isaac played for them. Isaac played the flute and Stiles was enraptured by the sound. It wasn’t anything like the recorders his people carved in sound, and Stiles found himself singing along to it. That required he make up words, often sweet ones about the stories they read together, but sometimes rude ones guaranteed to make Isaac lose his place and start laughing. Derek had tickled him until he’d cried for that one. He’d also told Stiles that his voice was absolutely divine and he wanted him to sing for the Yukimuras. Stiles had flushed red and not been able to reply.

Over all it looked as if he could lead an absolutely blissful life with Derek, who promised him things such as a plot of land in their gardens to grow things in spring. A horse ride. More access to the cows so he could pet the dear creatures. Sweets from another country when theirs finally recovered from the drought. Anything and everything Derek would get for Stiles, who was finding out that he could be greedy and exacting if he didn’t contain himself. He did his best to focus on Derek. Derek’s needs were what mattered, but it seemed that Derek’s needs included pampering the hell out of Stiles, and who was Stiles to deny a cursed man his boon?


	9. Chapter 9

Stiles let out a whoop of excitement and sprinted down the stairs with Scott fast on his tail. The young man was growling and snarling as he chased him, but had kept his fangs and new facial features tucked. Stiles had asked to see them to confirm his theory that the royal family and those they took in were cursed, and now he knew for sure. What surprised him was that the curse hadn’t fallen on _him_. He was trying to get more time to talk to the healer because he was fairy certain that the man was a part of the curse since Stiles had yet to become toothsome. Perhaps he had been installed by the Argents or in a more innocent capacity. Stiles knew, however, only one way to get to see the reclusive healer.

“Can’t catch me!” Stiles shouted, jumping a banister and heading for the ballroom.

“Slow down!” Scott warned, recognizing Stiles’ reckless behavior for what it was, “Stiles! Be careful!”

Stiles pushed past a servant and ran into the ballroom. It was being hurriedly cleaned and was the perfect place to have an accident in. Stiles skidded across the floor, genuinely tripped over his own awkward feet, flailed his arms, had a split second to question his own stupidity, and hit the ground hard. Stiles groaned as he rolled onto his back and held his aching shoulder.

“You’re. An. Idiot,” Scott informed him.

“Yes,” Derek frowned, as he appeared from abso-fucking-lutely nowhere, “You are.”

Deaton agreed as to Stiles’ foolishness, but deemed his arm uninjured in any severe form. He gave him some willow bark tea to calm the aching joint down and told Derek that Stiles would be able to dance with him at the ball if he didn’t sleep on that shoulder and took it easy.

“Don’t spin him too much,” Deaton teased, clearly pleased with Stiles as the older man’s companion, an aspect that threw Stiles for a loop.

“So, Deaton,” Stiles grinned, “How long have you known the royal family? Ten years?”

“I’ve been with them my entire life,” Deaton replied easily as he put the kettle on for Stiles, “You know, your father was far more cautious in his investigation.”

Stiles blinked, “I already know you aren’t hoarding food.”

Deaton glanced his way, “Your father should have taken the time to train you in the art of information gathering. He wasn’t here to investigate food hoarding. Had he been we would have simply turned him away. Your father was here to search for a cure for the curse that plagues this land.”

Stiles’ heart began to beat faster, “You spoke to him about this?”

Derek frowned but didn’t reply as Deaton added collected herbs into a sifter, “I did.”

“What was his conclusion?” Stiles asked, leaning forward eagerly, “Did he leave notes behind? Did _you_ take notes? What do _you_ know about it? Are you _also_ bound by the curse? Can you answer my questions? Are yo-“

“Not at the rate you’re spitting them out,” Deaton cut in, “And your father’s conclusion was a simple one: there is no curse.”

“What?”

Stiles turned to Derek to get some sympathetic looks, but found him standing stock still and looking sick to his stomach. He was staring at Deaton with a pleading look on his face, but the dark skinned man chose to ignore it.

“I come from a land of stories,” Deaton told him, “Wondrous, beautiful, and sometimes terrifying stories. Where I come from they are often used to pass down knowledge, but knowledge, in my profession, far outweighs the stories themselves. Evidence holds more weight than a wagging tongue.”

“And your evidence shows that there _is_ no curse?” Stiles asked in disbelief.

“It does.”

“So?” Stiles held out his hands, “Show me.”

The man walked to a row of shelves and pulled down a scroll. He unrolled it on a table and gestured for Stiles to join him. Stiles walked forward and stood beside him, frowning down at a map of the continent. Theirs was the southern most kingdom, with the sea to the south east. To the northwest was York and the uninspired capital of New York that the Argents ruled. Taking up the entire eastern half and bordering both the Argents and the Hales to the north east was the vast kingdom of the Yukimuras which was simply called The East by most denizens of the west. What they called their home, he had no idea. Above them and further to the west were countries Stiles had never heard of and he started trying to sound out their names when Deaton interrupted him.

“So here is our continent,” He stated, “The theory being bandied around is that Derek is cursed due to his short-lived marriage to Kate Argent, correct?”

“Yes,” Stiles nodded, “His return heralded the end of proper rain, and his relationships ease it.”

“Then why,” Deaton asked as he fetched a piece of chalk, “Does the drought cover _this_ area?”

Deaton drew a wide oval on the scroll and Stiles’ eyes widened in horror. The drought extended deep into Argent country. Deep into it, cutting it nearly in twain. California was entirely cut out, and Beacon Hills was part of that slash of death, but the oval extended through York straight up into their capital. Stiles frowned and narrowed his eyes.

“This is the capital? You’re certain it extends to this point?”

“Yes,” Deaton nodded, “It covers part of each country, sparing the borders of ours and the far west of theirs. It’s a typical weather pattern. A deadly one, but typical. Some natural disaster likely caused the winds that bring us rain to shift enough that they no longer aid us. The Yukimuras in the east have been getting far too _much_ water, and their latest visit is to discuss ways to purify it and send it to us, isn’t that correct, Prince Derek?”

Stiles turned to Derek and found him still looking pale and drawn. Perhaps the discussion of the curse made him feel it more strongly? The guilt, at the very least, had to be weighing on him.

“Yes,” Derek swallowed hard, “Yes, that’s correct.”

“That would greatly ease your people’s suffering,” Stiles told him, stepping forward to take his hand gently, “Derek, this is good. It also means the Yukimura’s aren’t a part of it.”

“Wh-what?” Derek asked.

“They aren’t a part of it. They’re getting flooded, right? Floods are bad. They’re suffering as well, just in different ways.”

“Yes,” Derek nodded, “It’s made travel difficult, which is why our supplies are patchy at times. They lost several thousand people a few months ago in a terrible rain storm with such violent winds that it tore the roofs from buildings.”

Stiles’ eyes widened, “Then your curse may not be related to Lady Kate. Unless your lover was from the East?”

Derek shook his head, “No one was involved from there to my knowledge.”

“Than we have to search for a different cause. Perhaps something we have done here has angered a long-dormant god?”

“Something besides the weather?” Deaton asked caustically before heading for the whistling teapot.

“There is a curse,” Stiles stated firmly, “I have my own evidence of that.”

“So?” Deaton imitated, “Show me?”

Stiles glanced at Derek for permission, but the man subtly shook his head so Stiles switched tactics, “When I’m ready I shall.”

“Hm,” Deaton replied in disbelief, pouring him the tea, “No sugar, I’m afraid. Drink up.”

Stiles blew on it to cool it and then swallowed it down hot, grimacing at the taste. He’d found out a huge chunk of information so his sacrifice was worth it.

“One more thing, Mr. Stilinski,” Deaton called before they could leave, “There are _some_ legends that are true. Take this. You may need it to protect yourself someday.”

Deaton handed Stiles a large club that had been carefully worn smooth as if it were meant for furniture instead of weaponry.

“What-“ Stiles started.

“A rowan club?!” Derek was backing away from the wooden implement in alarm, “Are you mad, Deaton?! I’m not going to _hurt_ him!”

“It’s not for protection against _you_ ,” The man replied, then turned and went back to fiddling with his odds and ends.

Derek led him out with a hand on his lower back while Stiles frowned down at the club in his grip, “Should I get rid of it?”

“No,” Derek replied, “Deaton is often right about these things.”

“So,” Stiles mused as they walked together, “We know now that Kate Argent or someone in the Argent household is also cursed. We know that the Yukimuras are paying some sort of price as well. Or at the very least are unintended victims of the curse because the water is headed their way instead of ours. Hey, is it possible to cut a channel all the way from them to us so the rain just runs right down like a farmer’s irrigation canal?”

Derek blinked and paused, “That’s hundreds of miles, Stiles. It would take years to make that. Decades, even.”

Stiles frowned, “That’s a shame.”

“Plus it would get polluted on the way over,” Derek informed him, “Animals would use it as a toilet. The sun would suck it up. It would leak into the soil and less would get here. Farmers would divert it for crops.”

“Hm, but the farmers _need it_.”

“True,” Derek nodded.

“And shipping dirty water in barrels and boiling it down to make it drinkable sure as hell doesn’t seem feasible. What if the Yukimuras channeled all their water into one big area and then shipped it here? Or diverted it here? Or something? Oh! Maybe they could find a link to our wells that is nearby them and divert it there!”

“I don’t think wells work that way,” Derek replied softly, but he was clearly deep in thought.

“No?” Stiles frowned, “I suppose not. I just assumed that deep down was this _huge_ natural lake and that’s where all our wells are-“

Derek stopped walking and stared at Stiles in shock as he turned around to give him a baffled look, “What?”

“That’s… underground… containers… I have to go!”

Derek took off running while Stiles stared after him in complete confusion, “Uh, bye?”


	10. Chapter 10

The day the Yukimura’s arrived Stiles was bathed in the large tub again, but Derek joined him to conserve water. It was agonizing having Derek’s naked body pressed against his, but Stiles still loved every second. They splashed and played in the water, scrubbed each other’s back, and when Stiles made a particularly funny joke Derek pulled him in for a long, slow kiss. Stiles melted against him and the two of them soaked for a bit before he insisted they get out.

Isaac dressed both of them, focusing on Derek for nearly an hour as he applied make up to an already perfect face. Stiles was next and Derek absolutely refused to let Isaac hide Stiles’ moles. When they were done up like dolls Derek placed Stiles’ arm on his own and walked him downstairs as if he were a treasure to him. Stiles was absolutely gone on the man and the realization that he did in fact love him was almost too painful to keep to himself. He would bear it until they had the privacy to tell him his feelings.

Stiles had expected the queen to be present, but he hadn’t expected her reaction to him. They walked out into the courtyard in the crisp air, Stiles leaning against Derek’s side, and were immediately accosted by an infuriated woman in the largest dress Stiles had ever seen. It was a bright orange with black trim and lace and for the first time Stiles found himself questioning the wisdom of the colors in the family crest.

“What is _he_ doing here?!”

“He’s my consort,” Derek stated firmly, “He stays.”

“He’s a man! They’re very traditional people, Derek! I don’t like this world we live in, and I want to make it better for you, but this isn’t how things go! Our people will _starve_ if you don’t-“

“So the problem is I’m a dude?” Stiles asked, still staring at her miles of ugly dress.

“Yes,” Queen Laura replied with a huff.

“Well, you can’t even see tits in that huge ass dress you’re wearing-“

“And, quite possibly, your mouth,” She amended.

“I can clean up my language, my lovely queen, if only you would grant me one boon?”

“And that would be?” She asked with narrowed eyes.

“A dress.”

“A huge ass dress?” She mocked right back.

Stiles grinned, “We are _so_ going to be friends.”

“We’re not going to be friends. I don’t make friends with people who hurt my brother, and every single man who he shares his bed with breaks his heart worse than the last. I’m shocked he even has a fragment left for you. In fact, being queen has given me a _brilliant_ idea. Page Erica? Take a note. Write a new law condemning royal family heartbreakers to _death!_ ”

“Laura!” Derek whined.

“We’re going to be _best_ friends!” Stiles bounced happily, clapping his hands in joy, “Can I wear one of hers?”

Stiles pointed to a younger lady just a bit behind Laura whose clothes were clearly less obnoxious. Laura glanced at her and she raised an eyebrow in clear refusal.

“I have _got_ to know how you lot have full-blown conversations with just your eye-caterpillars,” Stiles pleaded.

“Erica, take this… person… upstairs and put him in something appropriate,” Queen Laura ordered.

“Yes, my queen,” Erica stated, stepping forward from a line of servants, “Isaac? Come along for propriety?”

Isaac and Stiles followed after while Derek squared off against his sister. Stiles laughed at them and hurried along after the fast pace of the servants.

“Okay, I know this is short notice and it probably won’t fit well, but we can pull this off, right?”

“I can pull anything off,” Erica stated, then paused and turned so sharply he nearly ran into her, “You’re really going to wear a dress? I thought you’d be high-tailing it out of here by now.”

“No, I’m going to wear a dress,” Stiles shrugged, “It makes things easier for Derek and the queen. Our people need food and water. It’s just clothing. Besides, I’m fucking _gorgeous_ in anything I wear.”

Stiles lifted his chin and walked passed them, but Erica redirected him to the queen’s chambers. They were on the second floor as opposed to Derek’s on the third. Stiles wondered if each royal child had their own floor, but was quickly distracted by the outpouring of clothes and Isaac spouting off Stiles’ measurements from memory. They found a dress from her pregnancy that was tight at the top and loose below. They figured it would hide his lack of figure, but there was no keeping it in place without her large breasts. Stiles climbed out of the fabric mess and found his own dress, slipping into it and commanding them to lace the corset.

“We don’t have time for games,” Erica laughed, “They’ll be here in but a moment!”

“Lace. Me. Up,” Stiles growled angrily, “Or I’ll tell Derek.”

Erica snorted, “We’re lifelong servants. You’re a boy toy. He’ll give you something shiny to distract you and tell us we did right by not _corseting_ a _man_!”

Stiles gathered the laces of the dress and headed for the nearest door, slamming it shut in frustration. He turned, gathered the laces, and wrapped them around the knob from behind. With a sharp breath out Stiles leaned forward and pulled the laces tight across his torso.

“Shit,” Isaac breathed, “It looks good on him.”

“You mean _her_ ,” Erica replied, “Flat as that fucking door, but it works. Okay. Straighten the laces, I’ll add the accents and some proper make up.”

“What’s wrong with my make up?!” Isaac argued.

“It’s boy make up. This is woman’s work.”

Isaac hurried to straighten the laces and Erica added some cotton to the front of the dress to create two tiny bumps that were very uncomfortable. It was enough to make him look like he wasn’t prepubescent, at least. He admired himself briefly in a window and then headed down to the first floor with his escorts. Stiles rejoined Derek and grinned at the shocked look on his face. Laura gave him an appraising glance and Cora smirked and winked at him.

“You look gorgeous,” Derek told Stiles, “If I admired women I would swoon.”

“I don’t repulse you?” Stiles worried.

Derek shook his head and Stiles smiled up at him happily, “Well, it’s not soft like the clothes you had made for me, but if it makes your life easier I’ll deal with the lack of air.”

Derek’s eyebrows furrowed, but a trumpet sounding interrupted his worried response. The Yukimuras had arrived and Stiles was quivering with anticipation. He’d never seen anyone from the east before and he had high hopes that they could relieve their people while Stiles and Derek worked to end the curse.

The people before him were stunningly beautiful. Stiles had been warned by Derek this time that people in other countries looked different and understood that their eyelids would be smooth. He had been afraid of what that would look like at first, but instead of being alien they were simply perfect. Stiles wanted to talk to them, but Derek had warned him that consorts were silent until spoken to since they were not royalty. Stiles was essentially a decoration for the evening. He would be allowed to dine with them, but that was the extent of his involvement.

After a round of tediously annoying greetings that only involved Stiles being vaguely gestured to and mentioned as a consort, Stiles and the group retired to the dining room. Stiles was excited for this part. It was a feast! An _actual_ feast! The strangers were bringing _their_ food and Stiles was going to be allowed to eat as much as he wanted. The young man sat to Derek’s left and the werewolf softly whispered instructions to him so he wouldn’t make a complete fool of himself. The difficult was that neither of them actually knew how to use the strange utensils. Princess Kira performed a demonstration for them and corrected their hands before the meal was served, but even Queen Laura was struggling to make it work. Stiles wanted to stick them up his nose but Derek caught his attempt and snatched them from his hands, forcing a fork on him with polite apologies to their guests.

“H- _She_ is just the clumsiest woman I’ve ever met,” Derek laughed, “Here, _darling_ , no one expects a commoner to manage chopsticks.”

“I was doing better than you, _my sweet prince,”_ Stiles taunted in a high falsetto.

“Don’t make me regret bringing you, _my beauty,”_ Derek replied with clenched teeth.

“I’d never shame you _, my love_ ,” Stiles taunted right back.

“I’ve changed my mind,” Laura injected suddenly, “We _will_ be best friends.”

Stiles gave Derek the wicked grin that the invitation to talk _from the queen_ deserved and Derek gave his sister a look of absolute horror.

“ _Your majesty_ ,” Stiles purred, “May I say you look _radiant_ today.”

“You may,” Laura replied, “I’m so glad one of my old dresses fitted you. It’s such a pity that my brother didn’t get you something more appropriate sooner. He really _is_ a disaster.”

“Yet we love him,” Stiles sighed, dipping his chin and studying the food before him.

“Is love a factor for you?” Laura asked, “My marriage was politically motivated and it was my understanding that yours was more… physically motivated.”

Stiles glanced up and opened his mouth to ask how she handled it, but Derek stomped firmly on his foot. Judging by the shocked looks of the Yukimuras the conversation really did have to wait. He could exchange barbs with Queen Laura at another date. Stiles bit his tongue and focused on the food instead. It smelled a bit like fish and there were tiny little white blobs sitting all over the place along with vegetables he’d never seen before. One was a teeny tiny piece of corn! He tried the blobs that Derek called rice and found them tasteless so he focused on the fish instead. The food was painfully spicy and he quickly scooped up the tasteless blobs to absorb the substance. Stiles glanced around the table and found those eating it looking content and making appreciative sounds. Stiles was used to starving. He wasn’t about to turn down food just because it was unpalatable to him.

“Isn’t it fantastic?” Derek asked him, “A welcome change after so much bland food.”

“Um, yeah,” Stiles tried, sipping the tea.

The tea was so strong he nearly choked, but at least it helped his burning mouth. Stiles struggled to get the rest of the food down while Derek talked to the people around him about ceramic pots and digging wells. It was a long discussion and Stiles was struggling with the flaming food so he didn’t pay much attention.

“Isn’t that right, Stiles?” Derek asked.

Stiles hurried to sip his tea and glanced up at Derek, sure his eyes were as red as his face from the burning food.

“Sorry?” Stiles squeaked.

“The pipes, Stiles,” Derek insisted, “You gave me the idea for them.”

“Pipes?” Stiles asked.

“Like in our garden fountains before we turned them off,” Derek replied with a frown, “They moved the water from one side to another using clay pipes. We did them for decorative purposes, but after your statement about getting water here easier inspired me to rethink the way we move water here from the East. I met with the artisans in the village and they said it’s possible, and the Yukimuras have other substances they use for pipes called ‘bamboo’ that may work even better! We’ve used pipes occasionally inside the castle but mostly in the kitchens since renovating a castle this old to make room from floor to floor would be difficult given our financial situation. Your idea might just save thousands of people, Stiles.”

“Your inspiration was this boy in drag?” Princess Kira asked.

Stiles’ head spun around to stare at her in horror, “What?”

“I’m sorry, do you prefer girl?” Kira asked, “Or is there some sort of third gender term in your country?”

“We call you _hijra_ in the southern part of our country,” Queen Noshiko spoke up easily, “I haven’t visited there in ages, but they were so beautiful in their garb. They don’t call them kimonos… what was it dear?”

“Saris?” The king muttered uncertainly.

“Their culture is very different from ours,” Queen Noshika stated, “That’s what you get in such a large country. We’re entirely different people from one part to another! They have governors now and are completely independent. In fact, even my husband and I are from entirely different areas and cultures. I am from an island for to the east and he from a peninsula off the main continent. Our marriage was meant to unite the two, but we fell in love along the way. While none of the countries definitively answer to us, we all have a history of supporting each other and the seat I occupy now- my late mother’s position by second marriage in the middle of the continent- was originally the hierarchy. We will be taking your requests back to whoever’s country you need to go through just as we asked those along your borders to supply you with food in exchange for other goods.”

Stiles had forced down the last of their food and was sneaking Derek’s tea to calm his tongue. Derek was allowing it but also silently laughing at him for not being able to handle the spices. The discussions about pipes continued until well into dessert, which was a strange, creamy green substance that was as cold as ice. Stiles absolutely loved it and unintentionally moaned at the first bite. A few lusty glances flew his way but Stiles ignored them. The only look he cared about was Derek’s, so he glanced over to see him smiling fondly at Stiles.

“You’re adorable,” Derek laughed lightly, and gently wiped his chin with a cloth napkin.

Stiles swallowed the cold substance, “It’s soooo good. I love it.”

“When we finally get ourselves righted I’ll make sure you have wonderful sweets, my dearest,” Derek promised.

“Your people first,” Stiles replied, picking up a scoop of ice cream, “Then we spend some time doting on _you_. This curse has worn on you, my prince. You didn’t deserve such wickedness.”

Laura gave Stiles a wounded look over Derek’s shoulder that nearly distracted him from Derek’s admiring gaze.

“What do you know of what I deserve?” Derek asked, eyes saddened.

“I know a good man when I see him,” Stiles replied, turning back to his dessert joyfully.

The night ended with the dancing Stiles had been promised, and he was spun about in Derek’s arms until his feet and face ached from smiling. Being in Derek’s brawny arms was addictive. The man was insanely strong and lifted Stiles up to toss him into the air more than once. Stiles loved it, even though the dress tripped him up far too often. Halfway through the night he opted to sneak away with Isaac and change since it apparently didn’t matter to the Yukimuras anyway. Stiles strongly suspected Laura had known it wouldn’t and had been attempting to make a fool of Stiles or keep him away. Eventually Stiles was shooed onto a platform and told to sing acapela. Stiles hadn’t actually practiced. He’d been consumed with dancing with Derek since it was as sensual as the man got outside of bed. Stiles had a brief moment of panic, looked to his companion, and saw Derek smiling serenely as if they were the only two people in the world. Stiles let out a slow breath and sang his mother’s lullaby. Stiles was nervous once he’d finished, but the group immediately applauded him and Noshiko even had tears in her eyes.

Derek hugged him tightly when he returned to the floor and took him for another round of dancing until Stiles made him carry him back to their rooms. Derek walked them in and sat Stiles on the bed, kneeling at his feet to slip his shoes off. Stiles fell back and moaned in bliss as Derek rubbed his feet.

“You’re amazing,” Stiles sighed blissfully, “For real, what did I do to deserve you?”

“I don’t think it works that way,” Derek replied softly.

“I heard your curse was because of unfaithfulness,” Stiles considered for a moment, “But that doesn’t seem right. You seem like the type to throw yourself into something whole-heartedly. So why did Kate send you away?”

“To vague, my dear,” Derek replied, standing and sitting on the bed beside him, “Remember I can only answer yes or no questions about the curse.”

Stiles sighed, “Were you unfaithful to your wife?”

“No.”

“Was she to you?”

“Yes, but I didn’t care,” Derek ran his fingers down the front of Stiles’ shirt, touching each button, “I only like boys.”

“Romantically,” Stiles pointed out, “Was it Creepy Pete?”

“Yes.”

“Was it _always_ him?”

“Yes.”

“Is he part of the curse?”

“Yes,” Derek stated, and then looked surprised, “I didn’t realize that until now.”

“Wait, are your answers _compelled_?”

“Yes.”

“Was Kate the one who cursed you?”

“No.”

“Deaton?”

Derek snorted, “No.”

“Anyone I know?” Stiles asked in frustration.

Derek considered that for a moment, “I don’t actually know who placed the curse. I was sort of hoping your question would trigger me to answer yes or no and rule a few people out, but that didn’t help at all. It must be too vague or the curse is avoiding giving me an answer to it.”

“Do you have any sexual attraction to women at all?” Stiles asked, switching tactics.

“No.”

“Did you consummate your marriage?”

“Yes.”

“Was it… did she make you?”

“No,” Derek shook his head sadly, “I made myself. It was very difficult to do, but it happened eventually. She laughed at me afterwards. Thankfully no child came of it.”

“Damn her,” Stiles breathed, “She should have cherished you. You’re smart and funny and protective and-“

“And nothing she wanted,” Derek replied softly.

“Did she… did she throw you out?”

“No.”

“Did you run?”

“Yes.”

“Did she hurt you? Physically?”

Derek hesitated a moment and Stiles grasped his hand tightly, “I won’t think less of you.”

“She told me I wasn’t broken. She was the first person to ever tell me that. I thought she could fix me. Make me like other men. She said I needed something specific to make me aroused, that she would help me find it. She blindfolded me and tied me up. It didn’t do anything for me, but I was so hopeful. I trusted her. She beat me until I could barely breathe. My ribs were broken. I wept and she mocked me for it. I was barely to adulthood and fresh from my mother’s side and she terrified me. The second I was healed enough to ride I got on Camero, tied myself to the saddle, and told him to take me home.”

Stiles kissed his knuckles, “That’s not how kink works. She did it wrong. She _was_ wrong. Except about you being broken. I think this is how you’re supposed to be, Derek. I don’t think it matters that you don’t run around lusting after everything that moves. There are enough men who do that. There aren’t nearly enough who listen to me babble, read books, and write music.”

Derek leaned down and pressed a kiss to Stiles’ lips, long and sensual with his tongue gently caressing the crease. Stiles parted his lips with a soft moan, but Derek pulled away again.

“To bed, my nymph.”

“Nympho,” Stiles winked.


	11. Chapter 11

It was too cold for a picnic but Derek wanted one anyway, so one day he ordered all their food be delivered at once. The night before he’d gone hunting and caught them a squirrel. It was scrawny, but the chef gussied it up by cooking it into a potato stew. Their two apples were baked into desserts and they had bread and cheese ‘sandwiches’. It was probably the lamest picnic Derek had ever attended, but it was the fanciest Stiles had ever been to.

They were laid out on a bearskin rug in front of Derek’s fireplace and fed each other slowly. Stiles was blindfolded for this event, having had the meal kept secret from him. Derek ripped the bread into pieces, dipped it into the stew, added a slice of cheese, and fed it to him while he moaned in wonder at the taste exploding on his tongue. Derek may like spices, but Stiles loved the gamey taste of meat, soft texture of bread, and the smooth glide of cheese across his tongue. Give him potatoes any day of the week. Carrots were sweet enough for him, and if he ever tasted brussel sprouts again he’d _die_ of happiness.

Derek made an excellent mattress as well as attentive platonic lover. He lay down on the rug on his back and Stiles settled on top of him with his head on Derek’s shoulder. The man used Stiles’ back as a prop and read to him out loud. Stiles was content, warm, well fed, and sleepy as he drowsed on top of Derek’s firm body.

“ _Our lives_ ,” Derek read softly, “ _will be arduous. Our journey will be long. Yet at the end of the day I know that I can lay in thy bed, warm amidst the covers, and drown myself in thy sweet moisture._ Sweet moisture? What the hell is that?”

Stiles snorted, stirred out of his lazy day by Derek’s sudden question in the midst of the story.

“It’s a rude way of saying pussy.”

“Isn’t pussy rude?” Derek teased.

“Yes, but it’s less rude than saying he’s going to drown himself in her moisture.”

“Okay, I get the moisture part… I remember it made it’s own wetness…”

“Mm, mine does, too.”

“Handy, that,” Derek admitted, “When I’ve lain with men in the past it was a terrible chore to get things going.”

“I bet.”

“How exactly would he _drown_ in it? Is this a figure of speech or an act I’m unfamiliar with?”

Stiles lifted his head and frowned, “I’m starting to see why Kate was so rude to you, but she should have just taught you or at least explained instead of being a bitch and mocking you for not knowing. You were so much younger than she and clearly inexperienced.”

Derek shrugged, “I suppose I still am since I’ve only done what past lovers have directly asked rather than explored. So this is something important?”

“Yes,” Stiles nodded, “He’s talking about eating her out.”

“Eating… what?” Derek’s face screwed up in disgust and Stiles shook his head.

“Maybe we should read something else.”

“I’m not _fragile_ , Stiles!” Derek replied in exasperation, “Just explain how it’s done.”

“He runs his tongue across her slit. It’s pleasurable, apparently,” Stiles shifted as desire curled in his belly. The idea of having someone do that to him was both terrifying and exciting. He was getting wet just thinking of it.

“That sounds repulsive,” Derek replied, looking a bit green.

Stiles shrugged, “I’ve tasted my own fluids out of curiosity in the past- stop gagging, it’s normal- and they’re not that bad. I dislike the male fluids more than the female.”

“Male fluids are just salty,” Derek shrugged, “What are female’s like?”

“Bitter, sort of… tangy? And thicker, sort of more textured.”

Derek watched him curiously for a moment and Stiles felt a sudden and nervous hope that he’d ask to sample Stiles’ own brand. It passed when he patted his chest in indication that Stiles should lay back down on him. Stiles settled in again, forcing back a sorrowful sigh. Derek propped the book up again and began to read.

“ _Each night that I lay with thee inspires more desire in my body. When you take my rod in your mouth I must smother my cries of completion. I long for the day when we can lie safely together without fear of creating life; for me that is when life will truly begin- not with my own breath, but with the breaths of our children._ Stiles? Do you want children?”

“Mm, yeah,” Stiles yawned, “I figure you can maybe jack off in a cup or something? And I’ll use my fingers to put it inside.”

Derek’s hand moved down Stiles’ body, petting him like a cat, “I want children, too, but if I have them I want the full experience. I’d want to make them with you properly. It’s not something I could do yet, though.”

“I would never ask you to, Derek,” Stiles soothed, “I’m really fine with this. I love being held by you and I satisfy my own needs.”

“That’s not what I meant,” Derek shook his head, “I mean that like Morgan and Penelope in the book, we can’t just go making children when we’re not ready to yet.”

“The curse has to be broken first,” Stiles replied softly, “This is no world to bring a child into.”

“No, it isn’t,” Derek replied softly.

“A woman in my village keeps falling pregnant,” Stiles whispered softly, “She cries and cries and cries as she buries her children. I kept wondering why she was doing it over and again if she couldn’t manage to keep them alive. Melissa heard me talking smack on her- calling her irresponsible. She went off on me. It turns out that she’s been spending a fortune on teas from Melissa to try to ward off pregnancy but she keeps ending up in a family way anyway. Melissa said some women are just very fertile. I asked why she’s having sex, then? She told me that some women are married to men who want them constantly, or they are just trying to celebrate what little part of life they can enjoy with the only pleasures that are free to them. Last year the woman couldn’t afford the teas _and_ the price of food and water. So she stopped having sex finally. It was like the color drained out of her. She just stopped caring about everything. She stopped smiling. I hadn’t even realized she’d smiled before, because I was so focused on her always mourning, but once her smiles were completely gone I missed them. Her husband was just angry all the time. It was like someone had cheated him at cards but he couldn’t figure out who, so he was just mad at everyone. Just before I left she stopped leaving her hut. I think she’s dead or dying.”

“That’s… horrible,” Derek whispered.

“It was all she had to enjoy, you know? Then she realized the price was too high so she stopped and then she had _nothing_. So she just wilted away.”

“Is sex so important?” Derek asked, voice a horrified whisper.

“To her,” Stiles pushed up to meet Derek’s eyes, “To me, _this_ is important. This time with you. The fireplace. The warmth and talking to you. This is our sex, Derek. It doesn’t have to be what they had.”

“Would you wilt without my stories?” Derek teased.

“I’m just now blooming,” Stiles replied with a sultry wink, “What do you think that means?”

“That you’re a very good actor,” Derek replied.

“I am,” Stiles admitted, “I had to lie my way to food on more than one occasion, but I’m being honest with you here, Derek.”

“I can hear your heart and it’s steady,” Derek told him, hand moving down to press against Stiles’ chest, “I’m afraid to believe you.”

“Why?” Stiles asked.

“Too vague,” Derek grumbled.

Stiles frowned, “I thought the curse didn’t have to do with love?”

“Too vague.”

“ _Does_ the curse have to do with love?”

“Yes.”

Stiles frowned. He’d come to the castle assuming that he would need to be devoted to Derek, not in love with him. He’d come expecting something akin to an arranged marriage, one that would free his people while sacrificing Stiles to the beast that was Prince Derek Hale. Instead he’d found nearly all his assumptions wrong and Derek to be someone he wanted to know more and more each day.

“Then it’s a good thing I love you,” Stiles replied, placing his hand over Derek’s so he could be sure the man knew that Stiles was sincere.

“It’s been barely three weeks…”

“I don’t think these things can be measured in time, especially when you spend nearly all of yours with me.”

Derek urged Stiles to lie down again, and Stiles swallowed the hurt at Derek’s lack of response. Derek began to read again and Stiles let the words drift over him. Time. He just needed more time with Derek, and it seemed that was what he had in abundance.


	12. Chapter 12

Stiles was terrified of the horse. It was big and black and shifted anxiously as he approached it. The Yukimuras wanted to go out for a ride and Derek had been invited. It was bitterly cold and Stiles was wrapped up in Derek’s extra winter cloak and a scarf borrowed from Isaac. Derek looked regal but Stiles looked silly. The Yukimuras had brought their own horses, Derek had his stallion, and Laura had a dapple gelding that looked gentle and elegant. Stiles eyed it in jealousy as Derek urged him on.

“Stop being nervous, you’re spooking him.”

“ _I’m_ spooking _him?_ ” Stiles asked incredulously.

“We have a double saddle for you, sire,” Isaac stated, giving Stiles a wicked smirk.

Stiles stuck his tongue out at Isaac. He strongly suspected it was Isaac who had hinted to Derek that it would be a good idea to take Stiles horseback riding. Derek urged him closer and helped him up on the horse, scolding him when he shrieked in terror at a minor movement.

“You’ll spook him. Just stay calm. Idiot,” Derek scolded.

“He’s spooking me!” Stiles stage whispered.

“I thought you said you were a great actor?” Derek chided, “Act like you’re an equestrian.”

“I’m a monarchist!”

“You’re ridiculous,” Derek chortled, climbing up behind him on the horse.

Once Derek’s arms were around him, albeit to hold the reins, Stiles was finally able to put his anxiety aside and look around himself. It was amazing being high up on a horse and he stared around at the scenery as they moved out through the gates and into the forest behind the castle. The trees were barren in winter and many had rotted due to the drought, but it was still a beautiful scene. Huge boulders stood taller than even they and a bird soured across the sky with a piercing cry. The horses movements beneath him were soothing and surprising all at once and Stiles gripped Derek’s wrists in excitement.

“You good?” He asked, his breath brushing Stiles’ ear.

“This is amazing.”

“I can see your interest in him,” Laura’s voice surprised Derek, “He’s so simple. He must find everything you enjoy a wonder.”

“Mm,” Derek agreed, ignoring Stiles’ insulted gasp.

“What will you do with him when he starts to get bored?” Laura asked softly.

Apparently she didn’t expect an answer, because she gave the horse a signal and it moved forward to outpace them. Stiles fumed angrily before he remembered that her hearing was more advanced than his own.

“Then we’ll learn _new_ things _together_ ,” Stiles growled angrily.

Derek pressed a kiss just beneath his ear and Stiles gasped and jumped, making the horse shimmy to one side. Derek scolded him lightly and Stiles muttered an apology as the man shifted them back on track. He felt safer in Derek’s arms, but also so incredibly vulnerable. The man was a shocking combination of tender, loving, attentive, and distant. Stiles knew the distance was his fears and regrets over past relationships rather than his sexuality. Stiles had never felt so comfortable with someone and expressed that regularly. For the last week they had been nearly inseparable and Stiles was basking in his presence.

“I’d love to learn new things with you,” Derek teased, a hand brushing Stiles’ thigh.

The touch was innocent for Derek. It was simply the closest and easiest spot to reach on his body while on horseback. Stiles hands were already on Derek’s arms so that was the only place Derek could reach quickly before restoring his hand to the reins. It still shot through Stiles’ body, making him achingly hard in an instant. The horse’s saddle suddenly felt so very invasive between his thighs and Stiles could feel his excitement growing there as well. Derek seemed to stiffen behind him at Stiles’ sudden tension and he slowed the horse down as Stiles tried not to panic.

“Your needs are being met, eh?” Derek whispered for Stiles’ ears only.

“I’m only human,” Stiles scolded, “You’re a _god_.”

“I’m a wolf,” Derek scolded, “And I can smell your discomfort.”

“I’m sorry,” Stiles replied, ashamed of his desire in a way he’d never felt before.

“Don’t be,” Derek scolded, then called out to his sister, “We’re taking a different trail!”

“Fresh!” She shot back.

Derek threw her a rude gesture and Kira laughed while her mother scolded her and Laura apologized for her ‘crude brother’. Derek turned the horse onto another trail and moved them along quickly. Stiles didn’t know what he was waiting for, but eventually his silent suffering was acknowledged again. The man dismounted and helped Stiles down, pulling him close when his legs shook.

“Are you alright?”

“Yes,” Stiles groaned, “I’m just hard as a rock and drenching my clothes with unmanageable lust. It’s not embarrassing or anything.”

“You’re ridiculous,” Derek chortled, “Will you be okay?”

“Yes,” Stiles whined, “Just gimme a minute… or maybe I’ll flash the trees and let the cold air calm me down.”

Derek frowned, “I’m afraid that won’t work for me this time. I need to deal with this.”

“Really?” Stiles stammered.

“Yes,” Derek replied, stepping back and reaching into his clothes to undo his flies, “I can’t believe this popped up during a _ride_. It usually happens when I’m relaxing in bed.”

“You… what?!” Stiles gawked.

“Help me get my arm inside.”

Stiles pulled on Derek’s sleeve until he got a hand inside of his cloak where he could touch himself without getting chilled. Stiles was lost. He was staring at Derek in frustrated confusion. For nearly two weeks he’d been a sexless creeper vine, determined to wrap himself around Stiles from every angle. Stiles had been jerking himself off at least once a day because of Derek’s attention, and now the man was suddenly awake!

“I know you don’t want my touch, but can I… can I see you? For, like, fantasy juice?”

“Fantasy juice?” Derek laughed, “Just don’t touch, okay?”

“Yeah, yeah, no problem. No touching,” Stiles bounced on his toes eagerly.

Derek motioned him closer and let Stiles pull the cloak open, briefly giving him a glance of a long, thick throbbing erection before he closed it quickly with a gasp at the chill. Stiles whined at the brief look and Derek laughed lightly.

“Why don’t you do the same? I know you prefer my scent close.”

Stiles shook his head. It wasn’t comfortable for him to stimulate himself outdoors. He had to touch both parts at once to really sate himself and he couldn’t do that comfortably here. He was also close to his menses and didn’t want to deal with any accidental spotting he might instigate.

“No?” Derek shrugged indifferently, not actually offended by Stiles’ rejection, “Then you’d better try that air technique.”

Stiles nodded and undid his flies. The cold was sobering, but Derek wasn’t looking at where Stiles’ flesh was exposed. He was staring into Stiles’ eyes. The human’s breath caught. Derek might have no interest in making love in a sexual way, but this was still a form of affection for him. His thoughts were still on Stiles, who smiled fondly as he thought back on their ride.

“What sorts of new things will we do together?” Stiles asked gently, “I don’t know what all you’ve done. What have you always wanted to do?”

Derek leaned back against a tree and smiled with such hope and joy, “If we live our lives free of the curse… Stiles… I want to see the north where Deaton is from. I want to bask in the heat. See the zebras. Watch the sun rise and set on a land I’ve only heard stories of.”

“Oh gods, Derek,” Stiles breathed, leaning back as well to stare up at the man he adored, “I’ll get you there. Let me take care of you, my prince.”

Derek gasped and stilled, his eyes scrunching shut as he bit his lip in pleasure. Stiles held his breath as Derek shuddered through his release and then relaxed. Derek smiled softly and let out a heavy sigh, eyes opening as he met Stiles. Stiles let out his breath as well, drawing in another to laugh lightly.

“You’re so cute when you come,” Stiles decided.

“Dork,” Derek laughed, “Help me clean up. There’s a kerchief in my pocket.”

Stiles fetched it and without thinking reached into Derek’s clothes to wipe off his hand and once again limp penis. Halfway through he realized what he was doing and met Derek’s eyes, but he was smiling warmly in acceptance. After all, they’d washed each other before. This should be no different. This was just another part of Derek’s body that he did not see as sexual. Stiles should see it the same way outside of his fantasies.

Stiles straightened up and tucked the kerchief into his pocket, “Shall we rejoin the others?”

“Are you going to cry again when I put you back on top of the horse?”

Stiles pretended offense, “I did _not_ cry!”

They rejoined the group and Stiles managed to forget his anxiety-inducing boner. He was enjoying Derek’s company while in the midst of others because the man’s touch was more fleeting. He reaced for Stiles as if he were a comfort that he needed to deal with the group around him. Stiles let him. He loved it. What surprised Stiles was the hostility in Queen Laura’s eyes. She kept glaring at Stiles, her nostrils flaring as she threatened him with her attack eyebrows. The group moved through the town’s marketplace. It was meant to show them their culture as well as highlight how poor they were. The people were struggling to survive and that meant they were selling whatever they could for food and water. The Yukimuras bought a bowl made by a local craftsman. It was truly beautiful and Stiles stared after it sadly. So many of California’s beauty were vanishing into another land.

“Did you want one?” Derek whispered against his hair.

“Oh? No, I…”

Stiles hesitated. He’d spent his whole life telling his parents that he didn’t want things so they wouldn’t feel guilty for not being able to provide him with the things the other children had. He had his health and Scott didn’t, so he was always aware of how grateful he should be. Now Scott had his health at last and Stiles had a lover unlike anything from the books his prince read to him. He should be happy. He should be grateful. He should be…

“Yeah,” Stiles replied softly, “I want one.”

“Go ahead,” Derek urged, “Pick one out.”

The artisan was giving them a look of desperate gratitude. With the money spent on his goods- which he was probably inflating the price of in their presence- he would be able to buy food and drink from the borderlands. Stiles looked over them carefully, picking up several bowls and cups while the artist practically shook. He instinctively leaned towards something practical because in his life he always had needs to meet rather than wants. Then he saw something beautiful. It was shaped like a bird and painted brown, blue, and green. Like Derek’s eyes.

“What is it?” Stiles asked as he handled the strange clay object.

“A bird call,” The man replied weakly.

Stiles tried it out. It sounded horrible and Derek winced and rubbed at his ear. The man looked like he might cry but Stiles grinned broadly.

“Luckily I sing better than this bird,” Stiles replied, “Derek, I want this one.”

“Why?” Derek asked in obvious disgust.

Stiles turned and held it up next to Derek’s cheek, “Because, my prince, it reminds me of your eyes.”

Derek rolled his eyes dramatically and pretended to gag and Stiles laughed at his theatrics. The artist looked fit to cry and started frantically pointing out other items, but Derek had pulled out his purse and given Stiles a challenging grin.

“How much?”

“Sire?” The man squeaked.

“How much for the bird that squawks as obnoxiously as my consort?”

“Yeah, that’s right. Please your pretty little whore,” Stiles leered at him, pressing against Derek’s chest.

Derek laughed at him and handed over the money without caring at the obviously inflated price. Stiles wrapped it in his borrowed scarf for safekeeping and kept it safe in Derek’s purse, reaching out to touch the bag at his hip happily throughout the ride back until Derek told him he would be mistaken for a purse snatcher.

The next day Isaac whispered to Stiles that the truth of his position in the court had been confirmed amidst the peasants. His reputation was destroyed. Stiles could never return there to be a peacekeeper again.


	13. Chapter 13

“How are things with you and Derek?” Scott asked worriedly.

“They’re awesome,” Stiles chirped happily.

“Do you two have a lot in common?”

“Yeah, quite a bit, and we complement each other, too.”

“How so?”

“Like, I’m good at stuff he’s not and he’s good and things I’m not.”

“Does he treat you right?”

“Of course!” Stiles laughed, “He’s our prince!”

“What do you to do together?”

Stiles paused. He was forbidden from discussing what went on in private with Derek according to the contract, something he’d finally been able to read in full. Derek was a paranoid bastard and if he heard something innocently mentioned by Scott he’d go ballistic. It could end things for him, and he would indeed be imprisoned if Derek decided to follow through with things. He’d managed to keep things vague and change topics with Scott so far, but his brother was getting concerned.

“I can’t tell you that,” Stiles blushed, a hand on his cheek, “You’re my bro!”

“Stiles,” Scott insisted, “What aren’t you telling me? Stop deflecting!”

“Deflecting?” Stiles laughed, “Is someone teaching you stuff?”

“Yes. Deaton. Now. Spill.”

“Come on, there’s nothing to tell!”

Scott reached out and gripped Stiles’ hand, “Does he beat you?”

“What?!” Stiles spat in shock, “No!”

“Everyone’s talking about him taking you away into the woods in the cold to...” Scott grimaced, “You’re not a werewolf like us, Stiles. You could get frostbite.”

“It’s not even like that,” Stiles replied weakly.

“I’m new at using my nose and even _I_ could smell his come on you when you got back!” Scott hissed in horror, “It was freezing out there!”

“It…we… you don’t…” Stiles stammered. He couldn’t very well tell Scott what had happened. It would be a violation.

“Stiles,” Scott gave him a shake, “Talk to me! You’ve never been this quiet about _anything!_ Lately I know more about your shits than I do your lover!”

“I keep secrets!” Stiles replied in offense, “There’s a lot you don’t know about me!”

“What the hell does that mean?!” Scott whinged.

“It means, chill out! I don’t want to talk about my sex life with my _brother_. It’s weird!”

“Stiles, what is your deal?! You’re shutting me out!”

“I’m not!” Stiles insisted, “You’re my bro and I love you. I just don’t want to talk about sex with you!”

“So talk about the stuff you do _besides_ sex!”

“I… can’t,” Stiles whined, “Just let it go, will you?”

“I can’t!” Scott groaned, “Dude, I’m worried!”

“So stop!” Stiles snarled angrily.

“I can’t!”

“Why?!” Stiles argued, “Why can’t you just stop? There’s nothing to worry about!”

“Isn’t there?!”

“No!”

“Every single one, Stiles. Every single man who’s shared his bed has ended up either emotionally broken or fucking _vanished._ Their families never even hear from them again! I don’t want to lose you!”

“You won’t!” Stiles stood up sharply, “Because there’s no way in hell I’ll ever hurt him the way they did!”

Stiles slapped a hand over his mouth and Scott went still in surprise, big puppy-dog eyes going wide with feels, “They hurt him? How?”

“Don’t say a _word!”_ Stiles shook a finger at him and then fled the rooms in horror.


	14. Chapter 14

The Yukimuras only stayed for two weeks, but Derek was only required to show up for dinner each night and the occasional meal. He spent the rest of his time with Stiles and seemed to have no real occupation in the castle besides trying to break the curse and conversing on general needs of the people with his sister during dinner. Stiles attended dinner more than once, but often stayed in their rooms because Derek wanted him far away from Peter.

Their time together was the happiest in Stiles’ life. Derek taught him card games, moved on to math now that Stiles was grasping literature so well, and started having Stiles handle musical instruments in preparation of teaching him one. Stiles didn’t have much interest, but Derek was adamant that he learn to do more than sing.

“If you read notes, you’ll be able to pick up all new songs! The best way to do that is to take up an instrument. Don’t you want to play for me?”

“I want to play _with_ you,” Stiles teased, trying to tickle him.

“Hey! Bastard!”

Stiles laughed and ran, but there was no escaping Derek and he didn’t let him run himself out the way Scott did. He was soon pinned to the floor in a hallway being tickled until he could barely breathe. This was a common scene for them both since Derek lived to render Stiles hysterical with laughter. Derek would then carry him back like the beast he was to force an instrument on him. Eventually Stiles picked the lyre. Derek was impressed and asked if Stiles had know that Derek loved it, but it was honestly just the only instrument that felt right in his hands. He had long fingers and the instrument was made for someone to caress and toy with. Derek was apparently poor at playing it, but planned to have someone teach Stiles when Derek was at dinner each night. The teacher was none other than Erica and they spent more time sassing each other than actually learning.

The only sorrow in their playful, deeply romantic relationship was the sky. Stiles spent day after day glancing out the windows and hoping for the sight of snow, but each day it didn’t fall. Stiles was slowly realizing what that might mean. Derek wasn’t connecting with him, just like he hadn’t with Isaac. He wasn’t as in love as Stiles was, but was going through the motions because he was lonely. Eventually it had to be discussed, because Derek pretending to fall for Stiles was so much worse than the looming blue skies promising his falsehood. Stiles couldn’t bear to leave Derek. He couldn’t stand the thought of not seeing the man he undoubtedly loved again. Instead he would tell Derek to start seeking others and keep Stiles as a friend/doll. Stiles would contain his jealousy for the sake of the country. Stiles planned on discussing it with him the second the Yukimuras left so that Derek wasn’t dealing with two situations at once, but the day they left a profound change occurred.

When the Yukimuras left for their own country they took a painfully large amount of books with them as payment and Stiles saw Derek weep at their loss. He also saw the first snowflake fall as Derek buried his face in Stiles’ lap in misery.

Derek sobbed, “I grew up with those books, Stiles. I learned to read on them. Their characters were my friends. I’ve-“

“Derek,” Stiles stroked his hair, “Derek, my love, look!”

Derek sighed, but didn’t raise his head, “It’s snowing.”

“Yes!”

“I knew it would,” Derek sobbed, “Just let me keep mourning them.”

“Forget the books, Derek! Your sister can buy you new ones when the country is no longer impoverished! The curse is broken!”

Derek sat up and shook his head, wiping at one eye with the heel of his hand, “Stiles, I told you before you have the curse wrong and I meant it. You still do.”

“What?” Stiles gestured to the window, “But look! I was comforting you! Just like at the ball two weeks ago when I realized I loved you, just now it hit you that you love me, too! This is it! We broke the curse!”

Derek shook his head and gestured to Stiles, “Ask questions. I can’t explain it if you don’t.”

“But… you… you don’t love me?” Stiles asked weakly.

“I do,” Derek replied, reaching out to stroke his cheek, “So much, and I’m so glad you love me, but I really do need to focus on missing my books right now.”

“Why?”

“Too vague.”

Stiles went still, “The books… the _books_ have something to do with the curse?!”

“Yes.”

Stiles was up and pacing the room in alarm, “Was there a clue in one of them?! Can you recite it?!”

“No, and obviously no.”

“Well, if it wasn’t a clue than what was it? Oh! Books! Of course! Reading is how you get people to fall for you, but you don’t have to worry about that because-“

“No.”

“Oh,” Stiles deflated a bit.

“I really need to focus on being upset right now, Stiles,” Derek replied with a heavy sigh, “I need you to leave.”

“Leave for… how long?” Stiles asked, terror climbing into his chest and clutching his heart.

“Until I call for you. Please. Go to your room.”

Stiles left on numb legs. He’d not spent a single night in his rooms in nearly three weeks. Every moment was Derek’s and when Derek left their rooms he tended to stay because Derek’s were nicer, easier to heat, and smelled like _Derek_. His own rooms were cold and unlit and he had to hurry into a hall to light a candle. The coals in his brazier were cold and dead and it took him nearly half an hour to get them lit again. He was trembling by the time they started up. Isaac chose that moment to walk in.

“Sir?” Isaac hurried over, “What happened? Are you okay?”

Stiles realized that he was crying while staring down into the coals and wiped at his face irritably.

“Derek and I had a… fight? Not really a fight? He wanted to be alone, I think, but I think I said something wrong, but I don’t know what it was?”

“Did you go to Peter?” Isaac asked in a hushed and horrified voice.

“No!” Stiles shook his head vehemently, “He’s repulsive, why would I?”

Isaac gave Stiles a sad look, “Everyone does, eventually. He’s very persuasive.”

“Did you?” Stiles accused angrily.

“No, but then I never mattered,” Isaac shrugged, “Eventually Peter lures everyone who matters away.”

“That’s bullshit,” Stiles sniffled, sitting down on his cold bed and pulling his legs up to hug them tightly, “He’s a creeper and I don’t want him anywhere near me.”

Isaac watched Stiles quietly for a moment, “You really mean that, don’t you?”

“Yes, of course I do! You can’t _possibly_ be into him?”

“No, but… it’s surprising that you aren’t.”

“Why?”

“Because he’s like Derek. He’s smart, educated, giving, doting, handsome and he’s…”

“Creepy?”

“Sexually accessible.”

Stiles snorted and replied vehemently, “Not for me. I’ll keep my virginity, thanks. If Derek never wants it than I’ll take it to my grave.”

Isaac watched him carefully and then backed up slowly, “I think I should tell Derek what you’ve just said. Will you be mad?”

“Why would I?!” Stiles asked in frustration, “Devotion was what he wanted!”

Isaac didn’t reply. He hurried away from Stiles, muttering about returning with fresh coals, and Stiles was left to sniffle and hate everything around him for a bit. Finally he gave in, found his old servants clothes since all his nicer ones were in Derek’s room, and went for a long walk. He knew where Scott’s chambers were and headed there in a meandering way that took him through a few rooms that he found had also been emptied out of more nice things. The castle was starting to look abandoned. All their history, hundreds of years of their family’s heirlooms, tapestries depicting their history and culture, all gone to the Yukimuras who couldn’t possibly appreciate them.

“Who the hell is doing this?” Stiles breathed, “They’re benefiting, but… but the floods…”

Stiles paused and bolted for Scott’s chambers at top speed, “Scott! Scott, you-“

Stiles threw the door open and then slammed it shut again. Scott hadn’t been alone and whoever he’d been with had been _very_ happy. Moving on. Stiles flew to Deaton’s chambers again, banging on them until he opened with a scowl on his face.

“ _Please_ tell me you hurt your _fist_ and were just trying to straighten the bones on my door rather than being _that_ disrespectful?” Deaton hissed angrily.

“I need to see your maps!”

“Well, I’m all for education, but-“

“Where do the Yukimuras live?” He demanded, heading for the shelf he’d seen it on before.

Deaton cut him off and supplied the map, retracing the drought and adding in a flood line in chalk.

“Yeah, yeah, and where are the Yukimuras.”

“The East is-“

“Yes, but _where do they live?!”_

“Here,” Deaton placed a dot far out of the flood zone.

“And these people here, are they _directly_ Yukimura’s people? Or are they _sort of_ Yukimura’s people?”

“I have no idea what you’re babbling about this time, but-“

“Are they independent?!”

“Yes.”

“What do the Yukimuras do with all the stuff they get from us? All those books Derek’s crying about? Where are they going? Schools?”

“I imagine to the Yukimura’s private library,” Deaton replied coldly, “Their country is at a height of economic power. Their schools are excellent and they can print their own books easily.”

“Then they don’t need them. They’re not hurt by the flooding. They’re just gaining left and right? That doesn’t make sense. Then why would their _independent_ people be sending us supplies and water?”

“Well, the water they already have too much of, but I believe the Yukimura’s are paying them a stipend to send us the bare essentials of survival.”

“Is it equal? Like, how much profit are they making off this deal?”

“A ridiculous sum,” Deaton replied angrily, “Many of those books were rare. If _we_ bought the grain directly we’d be charged inflation due to our plight. They will pay their own economies cost to ship them to us where we are destitute, desperate, and starving. Grain here costs more than most can afford. People are eating _bark from trees_ instead. Their grain costs a few coppers a bag. I told Derek all of this, but he was adamant that the books be the next item sold when there were far more easily replaceable-“

“Thanks, I gotta go.”

Stiles bolted from the rooms and headed for Derek’s chambers, but his doors were locked and no matter how much he knocked the man did not answer.


	15. Chapter 15

For the next week Derek avoided him. He still showed up to for his lessons, but they met in Stiles’ chambers and he refused to discuss their relationship. He still couldn’t keep his hands from Stiles, touching him absently while going over letters and numbers. Stiles was left to sleep in his cold, lonely bed by himself. He strummed the lyre sadly and waited, hoping for forgiveness and writing love messages to Derek on his slate for him to see when he came in for lessons again. He would read them, erase them, and look so deeply sad that Stiles couldn’t help but feel as if he were doing something wrong.

After a week of this treatment the full moon was upon them again and Stiles knew that Derek was going to be locking him in again. He had learned that all humans in the castle suffered the same treatment, but that the secret of their transformation was still tightly held. It was a common belief that the royal family performed a religious ceremony to ward off demons on the full moon rather than the far more monstrous truth. Stiles listened as Derek carefully explained that he wasn’t to try to get out. Derek knew him well enough by now to know that Stiles was painfully curious, but what he didn’t know was that Stiles was also deeply despondent without Derek.

“Can’t you stay here?” Stiles asked, reaching for his hand only for Derek to withdraw it. This was what happened. Derek touched, but Stiles was now forbidden, “I thought you said you would never hurt me?”

“I’m not vicious during the moon, Stiles, but I’m… I’m not myself. Neither are my family. We crave the freedom that wouldn’t exist if you and the other humans were wandering about. Just stay inside.”

“That’s not what I meant,” Stiles replied sadly, but Derek simply turned and left. Locking him away from him once more, but this time in a more definite way.

For the next three days and nights all the human staff would be locked away, but the werewolf staff would bring them food and water by day. On the first day Stiles noticed that Isaac looked like hell and avoided talking to Stiles. He mumbled about being busy and hurried away. Stiles had heard the howls the night before and Derek had been snuffling and scratching at his door, but Stiles hadn’t been able to get the lock open. The idea of picking it was now firmly rooted in his mind and he had been practicing the whole day. Right before the moon rose Derek checked the locks on his door and left again, but after a mere hour of impatience Stiles hurried over and worked the lock open.

Then he waited, kneeling on the opposite side and hoping that Derek came snuffling by again. He’d open it up and welcome the werewolf in. He imagined Derek as a fluffy ball of wiggly puppy dog. He’d probably be all black and forboding looking, but Stiles knew that underneath the human scowl was a cuddly fluffball. The wolf version would be no different.

Sure enough, after a few hours something sniffed at the bottom of the door, whined, and began to paw at it eagerly. Stiles excitedly opened the door and welcomed him in. There wasn’t a wolf on the other side. There was a man-shaped monster with huge teeth, red eyes, and vicious looking claws. Stiles welcomed him in, hopeful that his acceptance of Derek’s other form would endear him to the man once more. Then he caught sight of the massive cock that stood erect between thick, hairy thighs and realized something was off. Stiles backed up, fear shooting through him, but not because he was staring down a werewolf; because he was staring down a _different_ werewolf.

“Y-you’re not Derek,” Stiles breathed, and scrambled for his closet to get his club.

Peter- for it was undoubtedly him judging by the way his erection swelled to terrifying proportions- lunged at Stiles and snatched him up before he could escape. He threw Stiles down onto the bed and began eagerly shredding the precious nightgown that Derek had given him.

“RAPE! HELP! RAPE! DEREK HELP ME!” Stiles screamed, only to have a massive paw cover both mouth and nose in an attempt to silence him.

Stiles licked the paw, but this was no sibling brawl that easily ended with grossing someone out. Peter held on and began rutting against Stiles’ backside. Stiles sobbed and bit at him, but the flesh on his hand was impervious. It was also blocking his air and what little Stiles got wasn’t enough while he panicked. He was hyperventilating and the world was becoming fuzzy around him.

An enraged roar broke through the room and Stiles was knocked onto the floor as Peter was tackled from the side. Stiles took a long, exaggerated breath and then looked up to see Derek wrestling with the beast that was Peter. Derek looked like himself, but with his face transformed, claws, and glowing blue eyes. Stiles had seen this before and didn’t fear it, and with Derek defending him the fear was less.

“Kill him, Derek! He’s a fucking rapist!” Stiles shouted, “He will _never_ touch me again!”

Peter fought Derek off far too easily, slashing a wound in his arm that had Derek pulling back in obvious pain. Stiles’ stomach lurched. He bolted for the closet and his rowan club and flew around to defend Derek. The moment Stiles took up a stance between Derek and the massive werewolf he knew it was absolute insanity, but he wasn’t going to let Derek be injured again.

“Back off you sick fuck!” Stiles shouted, swinging it in the air, “Leave him alone! You want me?! I will beat your nuts into your mutant dick!”

He connected with an extended arm and the club rebounded, harsh and knocking Stiles backwards. Derek caught him and snarled at his uncle again, but the beast gave them both a disgusted glare as if they had inconvenienced him far too much that night. He turned and wandered out of the room as if lost, leaving the door ajar.

Derek dragged Stiles back through the passageway into his own bedroom and threw him down on his bed. Stiles rolled over in alarm and Derek launched himself at him, growling ferociously. It wasn’t the growl that alarmed Stiles, but the state of Derek’s arousal. He’d never seen his beloved with more than one erection and a few semis, and he always ignored them. Now Derek was pressing him down into the bed, rubbing himself against Stiles’ body as if he couldn’t get enough of him.

It would have been arousing if Stiles weren’t positive that this wasn’t something that Derek wanted.

“Derek, love, I would gladly give my body to you, but not like this. Please, Derek. Stop! I won’t have you hate me in the morning!”

Derek withdrew. Stiles had known he would. Despite the fact that Stiles smelled like lust and longing and willingness, Stiles’ verbal negation had put a halt to his hungry rutting. Derek respected his body the way Stiles respected Derek’s.

“I’m sorry,” Stiles whispered when Derek sat back on his heels and panted while looking over Stiles’ exposed body with obvious desire, “I just don’t think this is really what you want. You said this touch was special to you, that you saved it for only when you wanted a new connection with someone. You’ve been pushing me away for a week now. I can’t let you do this or you’ll hate me forever.”

Stiles reached out and touched Derek’s face, noting the way he leaned into his touch again with a soft whimper.

“You’re probably more aroused during the moon than other times,” Stiles whispered, “Do you need me to leave?”

Derek shook his head and, with some difficulty, spoke around his huge teeth, “I want you here. I… I need you here.”

“I’m here, my prince,” Stiles replied, “Do you want to hold me? Or would that be too much.”

“I have to-“ Derek made a lewd gesture and the sight of a werewolf’s rugged face blushing was so cute that Stiles giggled and pecked a kiss to his cheek.

“Go ahead. Should I look away?”

“Just… don’t interrupt.”

Stiles nodded and they shifted about in the bed, getting under the covers while Derek groaned in apparent discomfort.

“So fucking annoying,” He grumbled.

“Can I watch?” Stiles whispered, “I need more fap material.”

“Shameless hussy,” Derek grumbled, but pushed the bedding down as he lay on his back.

Stiles watched with baited breath as Derek’s hand moved immediately down to his erection- which was not monstrous at all, thank goodness- and began to stripe his length with quick, firm motions meant to bring him off quickly. His claws were careful, but it limited his ability to tease himself. Then again, Derek didn’t seem to be the teasing type. He was headed for a quick finish. There wasn’t even a moment of vanity or flaunting for Stiles’ benefit. Derek didn’t see his body like that. It was just a vessel for his mind.

“Can I…?” Stiles asked.

Derek growled irritably, but nodded affirmative.

Stiles laid down on his back, knowing how Derek felt about getting anyone’s spunk on him, and began slowly stroking himself while watching, but Derek had paused in the midst of his own self-pleasure and was giving Stiles a wary look.

“You really didn’t invite him to touch you?”

“Fuck, no,” Stiles paused, his interest flying out the window at the memory of Peter rutting against him, “I thought you were out there, but when I let him in I saw he wasn’t you and I freaked out. I shouted for you _right away_. He was stronger than me, is all. I’d have never let him touch me otherwise. Your other lovers they… They might have been the same so… if you want them instead of me… if you want to go back to one of them…”

Stiles desire was well and truly gone. Instead he sat up so he could wipe at his face miserably, sniffling and sobbing like a child. Derek’s ardor was so rare that Stiles felt bad for taking it from him since apparently tears were a definite turn off for the prince. Derek sat up and pulled Stiles into a warm embrace.

“I don’t want them, and I assure you that none had been raped. I talked to them all afterwards, Stiles. None claimed it, and none seemed as frightened as you were just now. And then to stand up to him… like an idiot, I might add. I’m sorry I even questioned you.”

“It doesn’t snow when we’re together,” Stiles whispered brokenly, “I’m not breaking the curse. I can’t… please, let me stay with you! I’ll just be your servant! You can try with someone else and I’ll be there to cuddle you in between or wait on you or anything just don’t send me away!”

“I… Stiles,” Derek whispered, “Damn it, Stiles, why the hell do you have to love me back?”

Derek shifted them around, tucking Stiles against his body and holding him tightly. Stiles sobbed himself to sleep, so grateful to be in Derek’s arms again that he clung to him for the entire night even though his arm went numb in the position they were in. He would cherish every second he was given with the werewolf he loved, no matter how much it hurt.


	16. Chapter 16

The next morning Stiles woke to Derek’s erection prodding his thigh and an instant rush of lust had his balls soaked with the arousal from his feminine folds. Stiles swore as he shifted about, the need to be filled making him ache deep inside. Derek snuffled along his neck, breathing in his scent and nuzzling him hungrily.

“My beautiful strumpet,” Derek growled.

“My prince,” Stiles moaned, pressing back when Derek began to push his erection between Stiles’ thighs, “Please tell me you’re in your right mind now?”

“The moon still holds sway, but I can think clearly,” Derek panted, “I want to touch you, Stiles. I want to touch deep inside of you, have what no one else has ever had. It’s basic and crude and selfish, but it’s what I want. Will you let me have you?”

“Yes,” Stiles replied instantly, “Fuck, yes.”

Stiles was gone on pleasure, but only part of it was physical. He was lost to Derek’s touch because he had missed him so painfully. Derek slowly kissed down Stiles’ body, licking each nipple and finding the crease between thighs and hips and torturing them with long, sensual caresses of his tongue. Stiles shook with lust and let the tears fall, whispering Derek’s name as he stroked along his body again and again. When Derek reached Stiles’ aching cock he found the man hard for him, but he hesitated to touch Stiles there.

“Show me,” Derek whispered, “Show me he didn’t defile you.”

Stiles’ legs fell apart and Derek’s hands separated soft flesh to reveal the wetness that only Stiles had ever explored. Derek leaned down and breathed in his scent before letting out a low moan of relief and resting his head on Stiles’ thigh.

“I want to pleasure you, Stiles,” Derek told him earnestly, “But I don’t know how and I can’t do like that book said. Show me another way?”

“Just… touch,” Stiles panted, “Like you said, it’s another type of caress. Hold me, Derek.”

“I won’t do it right.”

“I won’t _care_ ,” Stiles hissed, “I’m more untouched than you are, and I just want _you_ , Derek! Trust me, you can’t do wrong here!”

Derek nodded, moving to wrap his hand around Stiles’ length. Stiles moaned wantonly and tossed his head in relief.

“This is how I touch myself… sort of… reversed. Is it okay?” Derek asked.

“So, so good,” Stiles panted, hips jerking.

“Then this part,” Derek reached down, “I’ve put my fingers in a man before. And in _her_. Is this right?”

Derek slid a finger into Stiles’ wet slit without pause, but luckily Stiles was sopping wet with desire. Stiles hissed and arched his hips and Derek quickly withdrew.

“Wrong?” Derek asked.

“Get back in there you _bastard!”_ Stiles snapped.

Derek laughed lightly and returned his digit to slide it in and out of Stiles. He occasionally brushed a part of Stiles that had his hips jolting in pleasure and it was enough to send Stiles tumbling towards the edge. He’d never had the reach to touch that part before and had no idea it existed but he instantly loved it.

“Stiles?” Derek asked softly as he moved to shift onto his knees and lean closer to Stiles, “I would be honored to-“

“DO IT!” Stiles shouted.

Derek snorted, “See? Introduce sex and all the romance goes-“

“Flowers beneath a sweet summer’s sun have no measure in compare to thy beauty,” Stiles gasped, reciting a song Derek had written, “Your scent is as alluring as the river is crisp. When cold you warm me, when hot you lead me to pleasant breeze and-“

Stiles lost his words when Derek shifted to lay across him. The man was touching himself, working the cock Stiles had only twice seen stir into a full erection. It was impressive and Stiles had a moment of fear that it wouldn’t fit him, but he would gladly bleed for Prince Derek Hale. He had told Derek when they first met that his own pleasure was unimportant to him and he meant it. Derek had spoken of occasionally enjoying sex when with someone who respected his body. Stiles wanted that for him now. If Derek fumbled and couldn’t pleasure Stiles he would still count himself a thousand times blessed to lay with this beautiful, brilliant man.

“Oh, Derek,” Stiles breathed as he guided Stiles hand to his own shaft with a shy glance through his eyelashes.

“Is this okay?” Derek asked softly.

“More than, my prince.”

“I’d rather be your love.”

“You will _always_ be my love.”

“Until death do us part,” Derek whispered, mouthing along Stiles’ neck to make him shiver and arch.

Derek had Stiles guide him, and when he finally slid into his body it was with a sharp, burning pain followed by blessed relief. Stiles was _full_ , and he was full of the man he loved. He wrapped his legs around Derek’s hips and held him tightly as tears flowed down into the pillows. Stiles heard Derek’s sharp breaths as he moved to sate himself inside of another and knew that this was beyond precious for both of them. For Stiles it marked the loss of his virginity. For Derek it was the acceptance of Stiles’ love and the worship of his body in a whole new way. Stiles had no misconceptions: This was rare and may not happen again for a long, long time. All he cared about was feeling his lover inside of him, and he focused all his energy on memorizing it so when Derek’s desire turned dormant again he could sate himself alone and return to honoring the man’s mind and spirit instead.

“Derek, Derek, Derek, so good. So full. My love, yes!”

“Stiles,” Derek gasped, “I want to keep you, please. Please! I just want to keep you!”

“Always. Forever yours. Please, I want your pleasure,” Stiles moaned, grasping his ass with one hand and the back of his head with the other, “Uhn, Derek, fill me, please!”

Derek groaned and stilled inside of Stiles. He could feel every pulse and the soft shudder of relief that flowed through him. Derek went limp over Stiles’ body and the young man’s hips jerked involuntarily as his own desire hovered on the edge of relief. Derek pushed himself up just enough to fit a hand between them and wrapped his strong fingers around Stiles’ straining length. Stiles let out a sharp cry of relief and spilled between them, his womb clenching on Derek’s softening prick as the echo of pleasure inside sent him trembling through a shockwave of bliss.

“You’re so beautiful when you come,” Derek whispered, “It almost makes me want to be with you more often.”

“Just…” Stiles panted, “Never force yourself. You didn’t, did you?”

“No,” Derek nuzzled Stiles neck, “I didn’t force myself. I wanted this with you. I don’t desire it the way you do, but I do want you to be happy and I did want to experience it. Touching you is always precious.”

Stiles sighed happily, but Derek was pulling away with a twisted expression on his face.

“Ah, yes, the mess,” Stiles laughed, feeling fluids surge from his body, “I’ll heat the water?”

Derek nodded, shifting away to frown down at himself, “You were right. Your body is perfect for me.”

“How so?” Stiles asked as he slipped out of the warm covers to shiver his way to the fireplace. He poured some water into a pot and used the hook to hang it over the fireplace to heat up. He watched it so it didn’t boil.

“Sex with men is messier. I don’t like the poop factor, but I hate things inside of me so much that I can’t manage it. So I ask them to just let me touch them with my hands or mouth instead. My hands are _never enough_ ,” Derek huffed in exasperation, “And when I use my mouth they push on my head and gag me!”

“I would _never!”_ Stiles replied in horror.

“No, but you also have an entrance like a woman. I like that about your body. It’s less messy. Your smell is nice, too; the woman smell that comes from beneath your balls. I don’t much mind the smell of semen, but don’t I love it.”

“It’s not a perfume, that’s for sure,” Stiles chuckled, “I like the woman smell, too. Is that weird?”

“No. I don’t find men or women arousing,” Derek mused, thinking through his word carefully, “But I do find men to be beautiful. Women are too, I suppose, but I’ve never fallen in love with a woman. I don’t know why. I don’t _hate_ them… I just… haven’t fallen in love with them.”

“You don’t find them romantically attractive,” Stiles suggested, “How fascinating! Before I met you I never thought much about other types of loved. When you touch yourself what do you think of?”

“Poetry,” Derek sighed, “Poems like the one you recited, you sweet blossom.”

“Mm, you’ve deflowered me, Derek. Flower metaphors? Not so much.”

Derek shook his head, “With how often you touch yourself, how has no other? I won’t be mad if someone else did things with you. You can tell me the truth.”

“It _was_ the truth,” Stiles shook his finger at him, “I’d never even been kissed before you!”

“Really?” Derek asked in surprise, “I’d just assumed you were exaggerating your inexperience!”       

“People… find me annoying,” Stiles explained softly, “And they frowned on my parent’s relationship. They thought they were unfaithful to each other, but my father never touched Scott’s mother even _after_ they married. They weren’t attracted to each other just like you aren’t to anyone. That’s why I don’t care when people whisper whore at me now. It’s not much different than them calling Melissa a whore when she was the nicest woman alive.”

Derek stood up and moved to stand by Stiles’ side, putting a hand on his shoulder, “No wonder you understand me so well. You already know love isn’t dependent on sex.”

“No, it’s not,” Stiles replied, with a heavy sigh, “But it was _so good!”_


	17. Chapter 17

Three weeks. Three weeks without any snow, and what had fallen while Stiles and Derek were ‘fighting’ hadn’t been thick by any means. The curse was still in full swing and Stiles was beginning to panic. He had Derek back, his beautiful, attentive, tender beloved was wrapped around him every night, but the curse was still murdering their people. Stiles had two theories going at once about the cause, and only Derek had the answers but Stiles had put off questioning him because he didn’t really want to know the answers. He feared them. He feared what would happen when he faced them. However, Derek was refusing to leave the castle and had taken to boarding up the windows in both their rooms so he wouldn’t have to see the sky. He muttered about selfishness and greed as he did so, angrily blotting out the proof of his guilt.

“Derek,” Stiles started one day as their math lesson wound down, “The Yukimuras benefit wildly from the curse. Do you think they have it in them to cast it?”

“Like Deaton told you, they’re being flooded.”

“Their _neighbors_ are. If they are callous people-which they don’t _seem_ like- than they may not care that they are.”

Derek sighed, “Truth, Stiles? Don’t be angry. The Yukimuras have been seeking my hand in marriage to their daughter for a bit over six years. They seem to think that by collecting our possessions that I will follow them over to their land and marry their daughter. They mention regularly that they have several rooms dedicated to ‘the History of Beacon Hills Territory in California’ and how I should come and see it someday. A veritable home away from home.”

Stiles felt cold at that admission, “That’s… are you going to accept? Can I come, too?”

“No to the first, because after Kate I can’t manage to look at a woman naked without feeling sick.”

Stiles nodded. That was understandable and he gave Derek’s hand a squeeze of support. Derek sat down in his big comfortable chair by the fire and patted his lap. Stiles happily flounced over and sat down to snuggle up to him. Derek had gifted him his very _own_ nightgown and Stiles loved it, especially since it fit him so perfectly. He felt pretty in it and Derek often admired him while he played his lyre for him while wearing the garment. He’d look lost in dreams while Stiles sang sweet songs to him. He called Stiles his wicked angel and made the younger man blush. He wrote songs _just_ for Stiles that the younger man called their sex life. Derek didn’t deny that they were.

“I think… I think I need to question Peter. Will you come with me?” Stiles asked softly.

“About the curse?” Derek asked.

“He was there in New York with you. He’s always trying to seduce your lovers away, starting with your _wife_ , and when I showed him no interest he tried to _rape_ me. There has to be something there. Do you think he loved Kate?”

Derek sighed, “He was her lover, but I don’t think love is something he actually feels. He seems to be my opposite. He feels only lust and has no heart. Well… except for where family is concerned.”

“Family? Really?” Stiles shifted to look into Derek’s eyes, “He doesn’t seem like a doting uncle to me.”

“Oh, he hates me intensely and has since I was little, but he has always treated Laura, Cora, and Justin as if they were royalty. I fell into a river during a hunting trip and my uncle- his younger brother- died saving me from drowning. He was a human but had refused to be turned into a werewolf so he was vulnerable to they hypothermia that my body was spared. Peter was always trying to convince him to change his mind, if I remember correctly. Peter never forgave me. He spent the entire funeral grinding his teeth until I threw up all over myself.”

Stiles memories dredged up. He was young at the time, a teenager just noticing boys and girls. He remembered being stunned by Derek’s handsomeness and Laura’s beauty at the funeral parade through town. He remembered Peter… quiet… angry… staring at Derek as if he were the cause of all his misery. Except this wasn’t a man’s funeral, this was _Queen Talia’s!_ Peter, who blamed a small child for an accident; who stalked Derek’s lovers until they relented; who let Derek be violently abused until he had to flee a forced marriage; who only let it rain when _Derek was heartbroken_!

“Derek,” Stiles whispered, dread curling in his belly, “If I may ask… I’m sorry, but… How did your mother die?”

Derek’s breath stuttered in his chest and he squeezed Stiles tightly, “She went to New York to handle the diplomatic mess I made and… they claimed it was an assassin outside their control, but it never felt right. Laura wanted to investigate, but I begged her not to go. I couldn’t bear to lose her, too.”

“Derek,” Stiles’ heart was painful in his chest, “Does it rain when you’re happy?”

“No,” Derek whispered, “No, it doesn’t.”

“When you’re… okay, maybe?”

“No, Stiles.”

“When you’re sad?”

“No.”

Stiles shut his eyes on the tears that were starting up, “When you’re experiencing a _p-painful loss_.”

“Yes,” Derek replied softly.

“So you… you have spent the last ten years giving up every single material thing you love. Desperately trying to fall in love and waiting for your uncle to end it- or, I’m assuming, ending it yourself- to break your own heart, all so it rains so your people don’t suffer because your happiness is _literal death_ to your country?”

Derek nodded sorrowfully, “Yes.”

“That _fucking bastard!”_


	18. Chapter 18

It was horrible to fight with Derek, but Stiles needed to have an excuse to be alone and never wanted that on his own. He was also a week away from his menses, but Derek’s wolf nose could be tricked and he doubted the man had memorized a cycle he’d only survived twice. Stiles used his shaving razor to nick a spot on his leg that was well away from veins- bless his father’s hunting lessons- and came out of the bathroom fuming mad. He collected rags for his ‘menses’ while shouting at Derek that he was a lazy bastard who would find a cure for Stiles’ cycle if he really loved him. He asked if the bite would stop it, but Derek shook his head, shocked by his sudden display of fury. Stiles stomped back out again, found the nearest object that wasn’t _too_ breakable, and threw it angrily.

“The hell has gotten into you?” Derek asked.

“Fuck you!” Stiles raged, then passed through the doors between their rooms and shut them both angrily behind him. He threw himself down on the bed, thought about how awful being without Derek would be if his plan failed, and wept brokenly.

Derek, bless his brave soul, tried to console him. Stiles threw a table at him while screaming about how much he hated his man-pussy and the terrified werewolf wisely left him alone. Stiles spent the rest of the night playing sad songs on the lyre and singing miserably at the top of his lungs while sobbing. Derek couldn’t take the off-key notes and abandoned his rooms, likely going to commiserate with a vagina-less man or hole himself up in what was left of the Hale library.

Come nightfall Derek still hadn’t returned, but Stiles had already hidden his weapon out in a hall closet a floor away. He’d asked a random guard he didn’t recognize where Peter Hale’s suite was. The man gave him a furious glare, apparently knowing who _Stiles_ was _,_ and told him to go back to his village and whore himself there. Stiles asked Jackson instead. Jackson didn’t like being woken up but told Stiles where it was and the young man took himself there with a cold rage in his heart.

Stiles opened the door without knocking, but didn’t bother being silent. He knew that he wasn’t going to sneak up on a werewolf. Peter was laid out on the bed, naked as a newborn babe, with a wicked leer on his face and his hands behind his head.

“Hello, Stiles,” He purred, “It’s about time.”

“You sick fuck!” Stiles raged at him, hefting his bat, “Let Derek go!”

“I haven’t got him,” Peter pouted at Stiles’ club, “Is that really necessary?”

“You’ve cursed him, you fucking bitch!”

“And you have proof of this?” He asked with an absolutely slimy tone.

“You hate him for your sibling’s deaths, but it wasn’t his fault! You could have protected him- you _should_ have- in New York! He was there under your protection! Instead you opted to get your dick wet and Derek got beaten within an inch of his life! Now you’re murdering _your own people_ to further guilt him?! You’re a sick bastard!”

Peter yawned dramatically, “You have _no_ proof. The staff, however, has plenty, and the longer you stay here the more time some silly servant has to get to Derek and tell him that you are here… in my rooms… where I am known to sleep naked.”

“FUCK!”

“Well, if you’d like…”

“Release him. People have _died_.”

“That’s what people do,” He replied in a bored tone.

“What do I have to do to get you to let him go?”

Peter raised an eyebrow and one hand strayed down to his twitching member.

“Oh, please,” Stiles scoffed, “You think I’m going to believe you? Ten years that hasn’t worked on his previous lovers. They sacrificed themselves to your nasty monster dick and you _still_ didn’t lift the curse. I’m not fucking _stupid_. End the curse or I tell the town what you’ve done. They’ll rebel. They’ll chop your head off like the traitor you are!”

Peter snorted, completely uncaring; “The town will believe only one thing of you after they find out you’ve been here. You are, after all, a whore; A prince’s whore, but a whore nonetheless. Or did you think that your father’s profession meant they would take you seriously? Poor baby. Derek will turn on you and throw you out and you’ll starve like the worthless strumpet you are.”

“He’ll know by my scent I haven’t lain with you.”

“He’ll believe you have anyway because I’ve broken him. I’ve broken him enough that he’s going to abandon you, someone he _truly loves_ in the hope that it will save his people. You’ve lost him. Actually, you never had him. He is as dead as my siblings inside and this will be what pushes him over the edge.”

Stiles was shaking with rage, “I’ll _make_ you.”

“Why?” Peter asked, “A permanently broken heart will accomplish what you came here for. It will break the curse… _if_ it’s real, that is.”

Stiles backed out as he tried to think of another solution, but paused at the door, “You shouldn’t underestimate me. I’m not through with you. Plan A failing doesn’t mean B or C won’t.”

“Promises, promises,” Peter laughed.


	19. Chapter 19

Derek was awake when Stiles entered his rooms, and Isaac was quickly hurrying back out. He gave Stiles an angry look and Stiles knew that Derek would already know. He stepped into the room with head held high and headed for Derek with his intent firm.

“I never let him touch me,” Stiles stated, “I went there to confront him.”

“And that’s why you’re partly dressed in two sets of clothes?” Derek asked without turning from where he was staring out at the sky. He had unbarred the windows and clouds were gathering

“Yes, because I dressed _angry,_ and you should be, too. He’s the source of the curse. It only rains- or snows- when you suffer because he blames you for Kate Argent’s actions! He blames her, too, which is why the drought extends up there.”

“And the Yukimuras you blamed a few hours ago?”

“They’re benefiting and I haven’t totally worked it all out. Maybe they helped him put the curse on or-“

“Stiles,” Derek stated firmly, “This is _pointless_. You broke our contract by going into his rooms, and even if you hadn’t this relationship was doomed because you have to break my heart _to break the curse_. There. I can finally say it, which means it’s true. I loved you, deeply and fully and completely in ways that I have never loved another. If losing you doesn’t end this drought than nothing will.”

“Don’t be thick,” Stiles snapped angrily, “Peter just implied to me that he’ll _never_ lift the curse. Your heartbreak isn’t guaranteed! What if you get over it, huh? Short of regicide we’ve got one option left and it isn’t ‘heartbreak’.”

Derek turned and leaned against the mantle, waiting for an answer. His eyes were dark with sadness and he looked so very weary that Stiles stepped forward to reach for him in longing. Derek held up a hand to stop him and Stiles paused, hurt and hating their separation.

“Run away with me,” Stiles pleaded.

“What?” Derek scoffed.

“Part of the East could use a drought. Let’s take it there. Run away with me. We’ll travel together and Peter can fester in his hate here. The rain will return and every time someplace starts to get too dry we’ll move on.”

“You forget that it’s a band that connects me to Kate Argent.”

“Good. Let’s go pay her a visit. She deserves to be run through. We’ll avenge your mother and then it can focus on you. We’ll build a wagon, paint it obscene colors, and travel around like Romani. We’ll have a big bed and I’ll give you children to love. Scott will come, too. And Isaac, who I’m about 90% sure he’s sleeping with. They get their own wagon. I’m not watching that.”

“If her death ends it, than so will mine,” Derek pointed out indelicately.

“You have something to live for!” Stiles pleaded frantically.

“What, exactly? My people who I can never see again? My home that has been stripped bare these ten years? My family are either disappointed in my lazy, playboy lifestyle or hate me?”

“Me,” Stiles breathed, “That was the point, wasn’t it? To fall in love over and again and suffer so your people could live. This time you can stay in love. Run away with me, Derek.”

“I won’t be able to give you pretty things or read you unending amounts of books.”

“We’ll make up our own stories and tell them to our children!”

“I have my instruments, but no heart to write you music.”

“I’ll be your heart. I’ll sing you to sleep and you’ll dream up new music!”

Derek crossed to Stiles and cupped his cheek gently. Stiles swayed towards him, forever pulled by the man’s beautiful hazel eyes.

“One last question,” Derek told him.

Stiles frowned, unsure what Derek wanted him to ask. It wasn’t his place as pauper to ask for Derek’s hand in marriage, nor could they legally wed. There was only one part of the curse left that Stiles didn’t understand so that must be what Derek wanted him to ask about.

“Does your furry thing,” Stiles motioned to is teeth with his fingers, “Does that have anything to do with the curse?”

Derek shook his head in amusement, “No. My family have been werewolves for generations.”

“So? Run away with me?”

“I said _one_ more question,” Derek replied, moving away from him with a firm step and returning to the window, “Isaac is packing your things. You leave at dawn.”

“That isn’t fair! I asked you to run away first and you never answered me!”

“I’m answering you now,” Derek replied firmly, “The answer is _no_.”

“Derek,” Stiles whispered, “Derek, no.”

“I can’t be selfish, Stiles. I have to think of my people.”

“Derek, _please no!”_ Stiles ran forward, grasping at Derek, trying to get him to come back into the warmth of the bed and the lies he wanted to live with him.

“Get out.”

“NO!”

“Get out, or I’ll have Isaac throw you out. I’ll… I’ll have him strip you naked,” Derek replied, but the coldness in his voice was broken by a choked sob, “I’ll have him parade you through the town, humiliate-“

“Are you _listening_ to yourself?!”

“You can’t break my heart if you still love me,” Derek replied softly, “Leave before you force me to hurt you so you stop.”

Stiles screamed in frustrated, wounded, anger. He shoved the tapestry aside, and threw open the door to his own ‘room’. It was his no longer. Isaac stood there, guilty and miserable amidst a pile of Stiles’ neatly packed belongings. It included his lyre, clothes, and all his beautiful gifts from Derek, but it didn’t include something that was stashed in a closet that no werewolf could touch. Stiles shoved Isaac aside to head back into the hallway and get the rowan club from the closet he’d hidden it in after leaving Peter’s rooms. Isaac had followed, and upon seeing him he sucked in a breath in alarm. Isaac also moved to block Stiles’ return to Derek’s rooms, but it wasn’t Derek Stiles planned to pummel.

Stiles bolted for the stairwell and Isaac shouted that Stiles had gone mad. Derek was in hot pursuit, but rage lent power to Stiles feet. For the second time that night he burst through Peter Hale’s bedroom door, but this time Stiles had nothing to lose. Peter gave him an amused glance that quickly turned to alarm as Stiles flew at him and swung, taking out a tiny table with a bowl of water on it for washing up.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?!” Peter shouted, backing up in alarm.

“Regicide!” Stiles shrieked, swinging at his head again.

Derek arrived and stood there in shock, not sure if he should defend his insane family member or the homicidal lover he’d just spurned.

“You think this will work?” Peter mocked, ducking another swing, “He’s done with you! His people are all he cares about now!”

“Then I guess you’ll break his heart by murdering them all if I don’t _fucking end you!”_ Stiles screamed, swinging again.

Derek gave Stiles an absolutely terrified look, as if the possibility hadn’t occurred that Peter would take it _that far,_ and Isaac’s foot shot out to trip Peter as Stiles swung again. The rowan bat collided with Peter’s skull, shattered into a million pieces, and threw Stiles backwards with the force of the assault. Stiles hands burned. The room lit up around him, and darkness descended.


	20. Chapter 20

It was cold when Stiles woke up. Cold and scratchy.

“Derek?” Stiles slurred, “Did I fall asleep on the rug again?”

Stiles tried to sit up but his hands weren’t working. Pain shot up them and he cried out in agony, but rough hands soothed him gently.

“Easy, Stiles,” Scott’s voice murmured, “Easy. You’ve broken both arms. I set them, but you can’t move or they’ll never heal right.”

“Peter?!” Stiles asked, memory rushing forward.

“You’re lucky, Stiles,” Scott spoke gravely, “Regicide? Queen Laura only spared you because Derek begged her to, and _that_ was under the condition you never return to the castle or speak of what happened to anyone.”

“He’s dead?” Stiles asked hopefully.

“He’s in an unwakable sleep,” Scott replied, “I didn’t understand it when Deaton talked about it. It was too advanced for me. They let me bring you here and told me I can visit twice a day to help you until your hands are working again.”

“No. No,” Stiles choked on his sobs, “I lost.”

“I’m sorry, buddy,” Scott stroked his cheek, “Whatever happened back there, you shouldn’t talk about it, even in here. There are more werewolves here than you think. If word gets out about what you did it could be really bad for us. You’ve got our parent’s hut, I’ve got my mother’s business I can start again, and once you’re healed you can work the fields again. Just… put those months at the castle behind you.”

“I _can’t_ ,” Stiles whispered.

“I’m sorry, but… you have to.”

Scott pressed a kiss to Stiles’ forehead and went back down the loft’s ladder to whatever concoction he was making on the fireplace. It stank, but it smelled familiar. Like home. Like Melissa’s medicines and Stiles’ boring but steady life: a life that didn’t involve emotional upheaval. Peter was still alive and that meant the curse was alive, and if he was in some strange stupor than he couldn’t lift it. Scott was right. He couldn’t go back to the castle because Derek’s heart had to _stay_ broken.

Forever.


	21. Chapter 21

Stiles was glad he was confined to a bed most of the time, because when he did dare to sit out on his front porch for some sun it was to hear the hisses of disgust from his neighbors.

_Trollop._

_Nancy boy._

_Slut._

_Freak._

Stiles wouldn’t have cared, but for the fact that he had to live with these people. His survival depended on their cooperation with him. If he could work the fields he’d be allowed a share with the co-op, but if they were so bold as to deny him access to the fields after he healed than he would surely starve. At the moment Scott was providing for him by bringing him a loaf of bread and cheese a week. Stiles was back to pauper food and rations from the castle, but with the snow falling at normal increments at least no one was dying of thirst. They could collect snow in their rain barrels and melt it for water throughout their day rather than risking a long trek to one of the remaining wells in the area in freezing weather.

Stiles had never felt the cold so severely as he did that winter. Scott still lived at the castle, his ‘gift’ making him a part of the royal staff. Stiles wasn’t even sure they’d _let_ Scott go, but at least they weren’t keeping him away from Stiles. Their relationship was strained. Scott didn’t understand what had happened and Stiles couldn’t really explain it to him without violating his contract with Derek and the parole he’d been given by the queen, so they were left at an impasse in which Scott was questioning Stiles’ sanity.

It took nearly two months for Stiles’ arms and hands to heal, and when he was finally able to stretch them he was beyond relieved… and more than a little afraid. Scott no longer had a reason to come to visit him daily. He still had to bring Stiles his rations since Stiles couldn’t approach the castle, but beyond that his brother was embroiled in more than one relationship at the castle. Deaton was his teacher, but he also had a secret lover that he wouldn’t speak of even with Stiles, which only proved he no longer trusted Stiles the way he once had. Scott encouraged Stiles to turn their old hut into a school and teach the children their letters, and at first that idea excited Stiles, but after a full day of being chased away and called foul terms he gave up on offering his tutelage to the local villagers.

With no pain or work to distract him Stiles fell into a deep, agonizing, depression. His appetite left him. Sometimes his stomach rolled and rebelled and even the bread was unappetizing. When Scott returned after a week to find the cheese had molded and Stiles was barely keeping himself hydrated the young man became worried. He examined Stiles as if he were one of his patients, but there was nothing to see. Stiles wasn’t ill, he was in mourning. He couldn’t let go of what he had with Derek and the sight of snow was a painful reminder that Derek was hurting without him. He couldn’t even wish his past lover happiness, because his happiness would destroy the lives of those around him!

Scott continued to encourage Stiles, getting him up and out of the hut and walking the town square with him. With Scott dressed in palace clothes by his side Stiles wasn’t harassed, so he began to at least look forward to Scott visiting every few days to check up on Stiles. Stiles even began to read Melissa’s medical texts; sorry that the poor woman had been so overworked she’d not taught them either to read or her trade. He passed her books on to Scott when he finished reading them because in truth they belonged to the one who inherited her abilities, but reading them reminded him of Derek. For a few hours a day he could curl up by the fireplace in the clothes he had from the castle, and imagine his lost love’s voice carefully pronouncing the name of each plant and describing their blossoms and leaves in agonizing detail. It eased his pain until Stiles truly _did_ become ill.

Scott diagnosed Stiles with a sour stomach from skipped meals and a broken heart, but his words did nothing to stop the painful dry heaves that plagued Stiles. He’d gone days without eating while waiting for Scott to visit again, barely drinking enough fluids to keep himself alive since more often than not they came back up. Scott had been horrified to see Stiles pale and sickly, but had quickly whipped up a tea to soothe his stomach. Stiles insisted he be taught how to make the miracle brew so he could concoct it when Scott was gone since he had no way to contact him. His brother left him the herbs and for a time Stiles mostly lived on the substance. It wasn’t until he finally got around to melting some snow and washing himself that he noticed that his body was changing.

Someone abstaining from food surely shouldn’t have a little hard bump on his abdomen. Someone starving shouldn’t be gaining weight _anywhere_ , yet Stiles’ belly was protruding just the tiniest bit rather than concave as he’d expected. A slow dread filled Stiles’ heart and mind. Derek’s final gift to him was to be a curse. Stiles could barely survive, and come spring the castle would surely stop handing out food and let the people fend for themselves now that the drought was broken. Stiles would be unwelcome in the fields, but even more so he would be entirely unable to work them when round with child come harvest!

Even should Stiles manage to survive, a quick tally of the months told him his child would be born just as the weather turned bitter again. Newborns in winter were referred to as The Nameless, because parents didn’t want to get too attached to babies that had virtually no chance of survival. It was a pity that the curse wasn’t attached to _Stiles’_ heartbreak, because he was going to have to do the unthinkable the next time he saw Scott.


	22. Chapter 22

“Hey, Stiles!” Scott called with false cheer.

Stiles hadn’t left the fireside in three days. He was hovering there for both warmth and because he was too weak to move. He’d forced down some bread, the tea keeping him from sicking it up again, but he was well and truly done with his pregnancy. Scott sat down beside him and gave Stiles a huge grin.

“I brought you a present.”

“Mm,” Stiles grunted, shifting a bit and steeling himself to ask Scott for the herbs he hadn’t found in the hut.

“An apple!”

Stiles’ mouth immediately began to water and he practically snatched it from Scott’s hand. He bit into it and the juices ran down his chin, leaving him moaning in relief at a food that didn’t turn his stomach! For a few moments he forgot his troubles while sweetness bloomed across his tongue, but all too soon he’d eaten all but the seeds and was left frowning at them sadly.

“You should plant them,” Scott advised, “Re-grow the trees out front that died a few years back.”

Stiles nodded and looked about weakly for their seed keeper. Scott fetched it.

“I’m so glad you ate that! I was really getting worried. I’ll try to get you more.”

“Scott?” Stiles asked softly.

“Do you need more tea? You ate it _really_ fast. I’d hate for you to sick it up.”

“Scott, I need your help.”

That brought him to a stop and Scott turned to him in concern, “What is it? Has something happened? The villagers?”

Stiles shook his head. Spring was fast approaching and Stiles should already be out helping to prep the still-frozen soil, but instead he was inside avoiding life. He wasn’t sure what he would do once he ended his pregnancy, but it definitely involved leaving the village. There was no life for him here.

“I need a Stillness Potion.”

Scott’s face scrunched up as he tried to recall what that was, and then his eyes widened in shock as he remembered the substance.

“Stiles, that’s poison! If you’ve gotten a girl in a family way take some damn responsibility!” Scott shot to his feet and paced the hut, waving his arms angrily, “You don’t leave the hut! You should be out helping pull up the straggling weeds that survived winter, but instead you’re in here moping! Now I find you’ve been laying with someone and gotten them with child?! What were you thinking! You can’t dally with someone when you can’t even feed _yourself!”_

 _“I’m_ pregnant, you idiot,” Stiles snarled angrily, “I’m pregnant and it will be a Nameless one if you don’t make me that fucking potion!”

“You…” Scott went still, “You can’t be. You’re a man.”

“I’m _blessed_ , though I think I’d prefer cursed at this point! Trust me, I had no intention of starting a family. Especially not with the father out of the fucking picture!”

“Stiles, why didn’t you _tell_ me?” Scott gaped, “This explains _so much_.”

“About my secret vagina?” Stiles scoffed, “Just make me the tea, Scott. Make me the fucking poison for my unwanted spawn and I promise you won’t have to deal with me again. No more apples. No more bread and cheese. No more guilty trips into your past to visit me. I know when I’m not wanted. I’ll leave and-“

“Stiles, of course I-“

“Don’t,” Stiles shoved Scott’s comforting hands away, “Don’t you fucking lie to me. I’ve been lied to enough. Just make it and leave.”

Scott stood up and rubbed his hands together anxiously, “It’s D- _his_ , isn’t it?”

“What does it matter?” Stiles asked.

“Well, is it?!”

“Yes,” Stiles replied softly, “But it _really_ doesn’t matter. Look, I’m not supposed to tell anyone this, but in order for the rain to fall, so must he, and that means no baby to make him laugh and coo. No Stiles to take care of him. He _has_ to be sad! _Is_ Isaac taking care of him?”

“He dismissed Isaac,” Scott replied softly and gestured around their old hut, “He doesn’t leave his rooms, much like you. Less so than before because he no longer eats with his sisters. He just stays in there and plays sad music on the lyre.”

“He’s horrid at playing the lyre.”

“Tell me about it,” Scott tried to joke, but Stiles just shook his head.

“Potion. Now.”

“I don’t carry poison with me, Stiles,” Scott replied softly, “And it _is_ a poison. I make this for you and you’ll be sick for three days at least. You’ll shit yourself silly. Puke like mad. And bleed. A lot. It could kill you in the condition you’re in.”

“Good,” Stiles replied sharply.

“Stiles!” Scott scolded in horror.

“What, you want me to romanticize this? Say I’ll spend my days remembering him fondly? That at least I have my memories? I’m _broken_ , Scott! He fucking broke me and he left me with… with a baby that could have given me a shot at happiness if I had a single way to care for it!”

“You said you’d be due when?” Scott asked.

“December, possibly January if I carry full term despite my health.”

Scott shook his head, “It’s too late for the potion.”

“It… no!” Stiles turned in horror, “It can’t be!”

“It is,” Scott replied, “But I can bring Deaton here. There’s another method but… Stiles, it’s horrific.”

Stiles shrugged miserably, “What choice do I have?”

“I’ll ask him to come, but he may tell you to wait longer. It’s… it’s easier to do the other method when you’re further along.”

Stiles shuddered. He’d already felt and mourned the telltale flutters. If he waited he might feel more. He might not be able to go through with it.

“If you’re trying to wait me out to see if I’ll change my mind let me make this clear: There’s no happy ending here. This child will be the death of me or I the death of it.”

“I’ll see if he’ll come by the end of the week,” Scott replied, face pale.

Stiles nodded and Scott left without saying goodbye. He looked grave and as saddened as if he were the one about to give up his child.


	23. Chapter 23

It was the scent of apples that woke Stiles from his slumber by the fireside. He had taken to sleeping there because climbing to the loft was exhausting and it had been too cold up there alone in winter. It was warmer now, but he had been so spoilt at the castle that he was no longer used to the drafty hut. Stiles rolled over, climbed out from his scratchy blankets, and blinked blearily up at Scott, Deaton, and…

“Queen Laura,” Stiles grumbled, “Excuse me if I don’t bow, but your leniency has left me in an indelicate position. Are you here to behead me? Because I’m down with that.”

“Stiles!” Scott cried out in horror.

“What?” Stiles replied sharply as he pushed himself to his feet, “I’m carrying royal blood in my belly. I should get to sass the queen.”

“Do people really _live_ like this?” Laura asked, moving to stare down at his barren food prep area.

“We weren’t so destitute before the drought, but we’ve never been anything but poor,” Stiles replied.

“I’m here to examine you,” Deaton replied.

“Scott says it’s too late to take the tea, but you can do a procedure?” Stiles asked.

“No procedure will be done,” Queen Laura stated firmly, covering her face with a handkerchief to ward off the dust in the room, “You are carrying royal blood, as you so aptly put it. You cannot abort.”

“That’s bullshit!” Stiles shouted, “It’s my body, and in case you haven’t noticed this isn’t exactly the palace! Any baby born here in the winter _will_ _die_. Not maybe. Will!”

“Your body ceased to be yours when you gave it to Derek… or Peter… Either way, it is Hale property now. It _is_ one of theirs, correct? Don’t lie to me. Not only can I tell by your heartbeat but a single sniff of the child when born will deter-“

“Fuck you, you bitch!” Stiles snarled.

“Fucking hell, Stiles!” Scott shouted.

“Scott!” Deaton scolded.

“You sit on your thrown and let Derek torture himself when PETER is the villain murdering your people!” Stiles raged, “Then you come in here and demand I be Derek’s puppy mill when your determination to keep a shell of a man alive is what’s keeping us apart?! Go to hell! I’ll throw myself from a cliff before I let you own my body!”

“You haven’t answered my question,” She stated, staring him down with absolutely cold eyes.

“Yes,” Stiles snapped, “Yes, this is Derek’s baby. Is Deaton able to put it in _his_ belly? Because I’d be down with that.”

“We have an arrangement for those of you in this situation,” Laura stated, walking over to a chair and giving it a dismissive glance. She remained standing; “You will be moved to a house for women- and blessed men, evidently- who carry illegitimate Hale children which we simply call La Casa. I believe there are some of Mason’s offspring there as well, actually. Either way, many illegitimate cousins of mine live there, the product of Peter’s indiscretions. I see no reason why your Hale child can’t survive the winter if given a warm home, do you?”

“And after?” Stiles asked, hand ghosting over his belly as a fragment of hope blossomed, “Will I be able to wet nurse, at least?”

“Wet nurse?” She scoffed, glancing at his chest, “I doubt it, but you _will_ be the child’s… mother? And a wet nurse can be found should you need one.”

Stiles shrugged. He cared not for terms, “You’ll let me stay there? For how long?”

“For life,” she replied, “You won’t have the luxuries of the castle, but then again you weren’t there when we _had_ luxuries. We’re still picking ourselves up and La Casa is not as nice as the castle, but it was a mansion in its height and holds some charm now. You will have to be content with that.”

“Gee, content? With the survival of my child, shelter, and actual food?” Stiles glanced over at the source of the apple smell and Laura reached into a pouch and pulled one out.

“I was told it’s your pregnancy craving,” Laura stepped forward and lowered the kerchief to meet Stiles’ eyes for the first time, “I know that when I had a particular food that my body craved during pregnancy going without it made the morning sickness so much worse. I’ll be sending you with a crate of apples and a letter to the staff at the House to make sure that you always have some on supply.”

Stiles accepted the apple and stared down at it a moment before meeting her eyes, “Thank you. I realize I’ve been a nuisance. It was never my intent. I just wanted Derek to be happy. He can be, you know.”

“At the cost of my uncle’s life, yes. You’ve mentioned. Yet you have no proof of this and surely if my uncle _were_ a threat than the damage you have done to his brain would render him inert.”

“I don’t think it works that way.”

“I don’t think you are _rational,”_ She replied, but her eyes softened a moment later, “I do, however, know that my brother loves you dearly. He insists that the weather will turn with your return so he has demanded you be kept away from him. The people believe it, too and I worry that they plot your death. I don’t like it. Regardless of what you think of my uncle and I, I do love my brother. I miss his happiness. If I can get him to forget this curse nonsense I will tell him of his child.”

Stiles’ vision blurred with tears and Scott came over to hug him tightlydf.

“Deaton will examine you while Scott packs up your belongings for the trip,” Laura spoke, back to being the queen instead of the sister, “Assuming you want anything from this… _place?_ ”

“Just what I brought from the castle,” Stiles sniffled, “It’s all there, in that corner. And a few in that basket.”

Scott collected it all, packed it up securely, and took it outside to a wagon. It wasn’t the painted one that Stiles wanted to run away with Derek in, but at least it was going to take him someplace safe to carry his child to term and raise the tiny piece of Derek he had left.


	24. Chapter 24

La Casa wasn’t a tiny house or even a big one. It was, as Laura had glibly stated, a mansion. It was five floors, twenty double bedrooms, two dining rooms, a gigantic kitchen with staff, a small library dubbed a ‘study’, a greenhouse, and four sitting rooms worth of house. All of the bedrooms were double affairs that shared a door, so Stiles had both his own room and a room for his child once they were born.

He moved in and found that his neighbor to his right was a teenager named Malia who was Peter’s illegitmate daughter. She hated music so Stiles had to play his lyre in the greenhouse. She also hated noise and if he hadn’t been so depressed he’d have told her that she should move the hell out before his baby was born. Instead he kept to himself, reminding himself repeatedly that he was _lucky_ and should be _grateful_.

Stiles spent most of his time reading and playing music while missing Derek terribly, but now that he had access to supplies he was at least taking care of himself. The change was immediate. By the end of the first week he had put on significant weight and by the time two months had passed he was well on his way to being described as ‘round with child’, and he was only partway through his pregnancy. Stiles was still moving easily, which was a relief since he was on the third floor and the rooms he preferred were on the first. He asked a servant to move books up to his room for him, but was firmly told that books had to stay in the study. The rooms were communal and he couldn’t just wander off with things. Stiles was disappointed, but understood their point.

The people in La Casa did their best to get along, but most of the occupants- and even the children- were women and they were uncomfortable with Stiles’ presence. There were three babies present, two of them Hale children, and every time Stiles saw them he had mixed feelings. These were Peter’s illegitimate children, and Peter was his sworn enemy. On the other hand they were _babies,_ and while Malia had grown up to be an intolerable bitch, they might not be and Stiles had baby fever. He wanted to hold them constantly but their mothers were wary of him so he only got to coo at them occasionally. It only brought home how very lonely his life was going to be, so he spent his time outlining how he would raise his child. He had slates full of thoughts on how to teach his child to be sweet like Scott, brilliant like Derek, and sassy like Stiles. He wasn’t going to sugar coat things. He was going to tell his child who they were and why their daddy was out of the picture. He was going to make sure his baby knew that Derek would have loved the hell out of them if he’d had the chance. He was going to teach their child that love was important, but not the end of the world. His child would be a survivor, but also a poet and a musician. His child would be his _world._

Breakfast was something one got on their own, and lunch could be ordered up to ones rooms, but dinner was a group affair that allowed for everyone to talk and share news, whether they wanted to or not. The food had gone from scarce to palatable to delicious since Stiles had arrived, and he was absolutely gone on the soups that the staff prepared so he never missed a dinner no matter how annoying the stairs and people were.

It was the height of summer when a messenger came from the castle. Laura Hale was dead and there was a tense bit of fear that her murderer was headed their way. Apparently Peter Hale had finally awoken from his partial sleep. He’d taken one look in the mirror and realized that he’d lost his alpha status somehow during his attack. It might have moved to one of his offspring or the power had simply dispersed. He had then attacked and murdered Laura in order to get hers. He’d fled the castle before any of the staff could stop him and gone on a murderous rampage throughout the village. A dozen people had died and Prince Derek was officially King Derek.

“Who?” Stiles asked anxiously, “Who died?”

“We are unaware of the peasant’s names,” The man replied, “But the guards who died were Jonah, Markus, and Lana.”

“Deaton?” Stiles asked instantly, “Scott? Isaac? Jackson?”

“All alive and well,” He replied, giving Stiles a soft smile, “You still care about them?”

“Of course,” Stiles replied sharply, “They’re my _world_. I _never_ wanted any of this. I’m here, I’m _surviving_ , for the people I love and this baby!”

“They’re sending guards over here, they should be behind me by a day,” The messenger continued.

“What if he gets here before that?” A frightened woman asked, putting her arm around her young child. She was one of Peter’s children. The mother was _terrified_ of him and the probable reason made Stiles feel sick.

“This is the least likely location that we expect him to come to,” The messenger insisted gently, “We’re only adding extra protection because you have so few defenses. As a new alpha he may want to create pack and his children are an easy option, but frankly there are miles between the two locations and he’s more likely to turn people he meets before he gets here. Once he has a pack he should mentally stabilize, and if he doesn’t there are hunting parties out searching for him as we speak.”

“They’ll kill him?” Stiles asked hopefully.

Eyes spun to him. Stiles hadn’t provided anyone with his story. He’d just shown up and eventually started looking pregnant. No one knew who he was, why he was there, or whose baby he carried. Stiles didn’t care. He just wanted the safety of La Casa, but if the curse broke he might be able to woo Derek back to him. At the very least his former lover could meet his child!

“That isn’t known,” The man replied, “He is prince Derek’s only living adult family member now. It’s unlikely that he’ll-“

“What happened to Cora?!” Stiles demanded.

More shocked looks. Apparently one didn’t call royalty by their first names without titles, but Stiles had had one too many underwear-clad singing competitions with Cora with Derek and Isaac playing the music to take her seriously as ‘princess’ Cora.

“Princess Cora ran away from the castle a month ago and hasn’t been seen since,” The man replied, “Queen Laura disinherited her.”

“Oh,” Stiles sat down, “Good for her.”

“Good for _her?”_ Malia asked, “Who the fuck are you?”

“Just another illegitimate baby-momma,” Stiles replied before going back to his soup.

“Prince Derek has written letters to each of you,” The man stated, “In order to reach out to his family here. He recognizes that with most of the royal family deceased there may be an opportunity for those of you who wish to come into a small inheritance-“

Stiles pushed awkwardly out of his chair, knocking it onto the floor as he hurried away from them all. There wouldn’t be a letter for him. Not with Peter Hale still alive. Stiles wasn’t even sure that Derek knew that he was there as Laura may have kept his pregnancy entirely secret, even from Derek. Either way, Stiles wasn’t ready to read any letter that _might_ have come from him. He was pregnant and therefore emotional. He wept regularly, and when he wasn’t crying he was jerking off because apparently hormones were unbelievable when pregnant. He was constantly wet and aroused but couldn’t even _reach_ that area anymore and it was an intense source of frustration to him. He wanted something to fix that situation and if he’d been even remotely talented he’d have made something. He’d shamelessly discussed it with the healer they had on hand who had told him he was disgusting. Stiles was sure if he’d asked Deaton the man would have made him a sex toy. Deaton was cool like that. Stiles was also sure that if Derek had been there he’d have helped Stiles deal with it as a part of being a supportive, attentive partner during his miserable pregnancy. Even if Derek hadn’t wanted sex from him at the time he’d have at least helped ease his discomfort!

Stiles huffed and puffed his way back up to his room and collapsed into his chair by the fireside. He hated everything and everyone, and just thinking about Derek had made him aroused despite the fact he was crying.

Again.


	25. Chapter 25

“Come in!” Stiles called out when someone knocked on his door.

It was the day after the messenger had arrived and the guards were probably going to be checking each room out and being overly loud and annoying. Stiles had a headache and was sitting in his chair by the fireside with his feet up and a wet cloth over his forehead. The knocking, however, was continuing relentlessly.

“I said come in!” Stiles shouted, then groaned as his eyes throbbed.

The knocking kept up so Stiles struggled up, waddled to the door, threw it open, and tossed his warm, wet, cloth at the offenders face. Malia caught it and that only enraged Stiles more.

“FUCK YOU, YOU SNIDE BITCH!” Stiles shrieked, slamming the door and then leaning against it and groaning in agony.

“I’ve been dealing with wave after wave of pregnant assholes my entire life,” Malia stated loudly enough for Stiles to hear through the door, “You don’t scare me and you’re probably already crying.”

“Shut up!” Stiles sniffled miserably.

“Just let me in.”

“What are you, a vampire?” Stiles snapped, “I already invited you!”

There was a moment of silence, “People yell at me when I let myself in.”

Stiles opened the door and frowned at her. He had noticed that Malia had little to no social skills and that the kids rarely went into town and had no friends outside of La Casa. He hadn’t heard the rumors about them yet, but he was sure they were quite poisonous. It was probably that the townspeople knew roughly who the people in La Casa were and hated them for having illegitimate children while respecting their unofficial titles.

“Please come in,” Stiles amended, letting her into the room with a gesture, “And the social protocol is that you knock and wait for someone to let you in _unless_ they say the words ‘come in’, in which case you let your _own_ bitch ass in.”

“You swear a lot,” Malia stated, “The Mothers don’t let us swear. They want you to stop swearing.”

“They’re going to have to wait until this living ball of indigestion, constipation, and hormones leaves my gut,” Stiles replied easily, “What do you want, Malia?”

Stiles sat down in his chair, put his feet up, and groaned in discomfort as the baby stretched so sharply that his ribs ached.

“Your daddy was _so much nicer_ than you were,” Stiles whined, rubbing his belly to encourage the baby to move.

“Who was its daddy?”

“None of your business,” Stiles groaned.

“Not Peter Hale,” She stated, “He’s not nice in any way shape or form.”

“Tell me about it,” Stiles grumbled irritably, “He also won’t _fucking die_.”

“You want my father dead?”

“Feel free to show yourself out the door if that bothers you. Oh, and that means leave under your own power, just so we’re clear.”

“It’s a stupid saying,” Malia decided, “ _Show yourself out.”_

“Yeah, it kind of is,” Stiles agreed.

“I’ve decided I like you.”

“Okay. Not something I’m used to, but precedent has shown that I’ll take what I can get,” Stiles gestured around himself.

“So I want to run my cousin’s letter past you before I agree to his offer,” She stated.

“Don’t you have a parent to run this by?” Stiles asked, genuinely wondering if she did. So far he’d never seen her in the company of an adult and her half-siblings had little to do with her. The room hers was attached to was empty.

“No,” She stated plainly.

“Okay,” Stiles sat up a bit, “I guess parenting could be a thing for me early.”

“I don’t need a parent,” She stated, “I’ve been changing diapers since I was six. I _am_ a parent, and I fucking hate it-“

“Language.”

“-I want advice because I believe that _Derek_ is the father of your baby and I don’t want to get myself into a horrible situation like all the women in this building.”

“Smart girl,” Stiles decided, “What’s his offer to you?”

Malia held out a letter and Stiles frowned at it before opening it after asking for her permission. Reading his handwriting was agony, and of course his scent wafted from the page. Stiles sniffled, dried his eyes, and forced himself to read it.

_“Dear Cousin Malia;_

_We have never met, but I am your cousin by your dearly departed Aunt Talia, former queen of our country. I am aware of many of our kin living in La Casa but have been raised with the knowledge that you are all well and cared for. I hope that that is true. Now that I am king I will be paying a visit to La Casa to make sure that the holdings are adequate for Hale kin._

_I tell you this in order to give you adequate time to consider my proposal. Due to circumstances that I will discuss in person I would like to offer you a place in the palace as my wife. If this were to occur it would be in order to create a higher Hale presence in the country and your bloodline would be elevated from illegitimate to heir. Further stipulations to be discussed in person._

_Yours Sincerely,  
King Derek Hale of Beacon Hills_

 

“Vague dumbass,” Stiles grumbled, “I can see why you’re wary.”

“While I may be lacking in social graces,” Malia stated clearly, “My education is top notch. I know full well there is a proper bride for him in the East. Hell, there’s _two_ in the far North!”

“Hm,” Stiles considered, “Are they all girls? Because Derek is gay as fuck.”

“That’s what I thought,” She replied, plucking the paper from his hand and refolding it, “Why else marry a child bride who is a near cousin? That’s the move of a desperate patriarch who needs to reproduce and keep Hale blood going. He’s got six Hales here and two Masons- who _are_ distant cousins and would make proper brides in six years- plus his sister had two children who survived the castle raid. So there’s no shortage of lineage. He doesn’t need legitimate Hales badly enough to inbreed.”

“He’s probably hoping you’ll get yourself in a family way with a servant,” Stiles snorted, “He’s got a pretty poor idea of teenage hormones.”

“Are you kidding?” She asked flatly, “Had my nurse not taught me about skins I would already be pregnant a dozen times over. Even the horror of living in a house full of babies hasn’t stopped me from riding every dick I can find.”

“Where the hell were you when I was a teenager?” Stiles scoffed, “Never mind; in diapers. My point is no boy or girl would go near me.”

“I’ve been told that the poor have difficulty getting a hold of properly dried and prepared skins to prevent pregnancy, teas to halt unwanted ones, and the care required to raise a child. It would make more sense for an impoverished person to abstain from sex.”

Stiles sighed, “Stupid poverty keeping me a virgin till I was past the age where I wanted to hump everything in sight.”

“That _stops_?”

Stiles shrugged, “It gets less pervasive and more selective. Then you get pregnant and all that goes out the window again. You mentioned there were dicks somewhere I could ride?”

“Gross,” She decided.

“Yeah, basically,” Stiles replied, letting out a loud fart, “I suggest you flee because there’s more where that came from. Unless you had more questions?”

“No, that sums up my concerns nicely.”

“Great. That being said, get the hell out of this house, Malia. You’re smart and you can make a good life for yourself rather than stagnating here and becoming the next generation of nurses to Hale indiscretions. Take Derek up on his offer. He’s a nice guy and he’ll give you a better life.”

“A life that’s a lie,” She replied.

Stiles shrugged, “A life that’s a lie, but is better than a shelter that is also a prison.”

Malia turned sharply and left without further word, but Stiles had stopped wondering if he’d insulted her unintentionally weeks ago. That was just how she left a room, conversation, meal, and probably her bed; with bitch-face in full effect and no social skills in sight.

Stiles stroked his belly and thought through her letter. He’d had a moment of absolute heartache while reading that letter. Derek was coming to La Casa. Derek was coming _here_ , and since no letter had been delivered to his rooms Stiles was now sure that Derek didn’t know he was there. He’d have at least warned him to stay away or made some token effort to explain why he was coming to marry his cousin instead of take Stiles back as his consort. That meant that Scott still hadn’t leaked Stiles’ pregnant status, and anyone else of lower status who knew were probably too polite to mention the latest Hale scandal. He was probably angrily avoiding Derek entirely, or Derek was shame-avoiding Scott. Or both.

So. Derek was about to show up and get the shock of his life. Stiles had known that at some point Derek might show up there; his family owned La Casa and Peter was the source of most of the occupants. His kin were there. Stiles just hadn’t expected it to be so soon. He’d expected to have a child on his hip, not one in his belly. He’d hoped he’d have more time to heal, quite possibly years. Stiles was still broken and hurt. He still woke up reaching for Derek. Every kick came with extra pain because Derek wasn’t there to feel it. He wanted him there with him desperately and he hated how much he missed a man who had been in his life so shortly.


	26. Chapter 26

Derek hadn’t specified when he would arrive but the staff kept the building extra clean in preparation for his visit. Stiles was on high alert for a while, but eventually he couldn’t maintain a high level of anxiety at all times and went back to his routine. Stiles was sitting in his usual seat in the study, lazily dressed in a hand-me-down maternity dress for his gravid form. He was reading a book about the countries to the far north that Derek had promised to take him to- apparently they were _not_ all dark skinned like Deaton- when the doors flew open and were abruptly slammed shut. Stiles jumped at the sudden noise in a usually silent room. He shifted awkwardly to his feet and froze at the sight of Derek leaning against the study’s double doors as if he were trying to hold them shut.

“Oh gods,” Stiles whispered.

Derek turned sharply and their eyes met. Stiles, like any spurned lover, had spent many hours of most days playing scenarios in his head involving seeing Derek again. He had many quips stored up in his mind, and had practiced everything from his own tears, to anger, to nonchalance, to Stiles coldly walking away with his head high. What he hadn’t expected was to see how broken Derek truly was. Of course he’d known that Derek was hurting, as evidenced by the continued healthy weather, but he hadn’t expected to see the loss reflected so deeply on his face. Derek’s clothes were as nice and put together as always, but Stiles suspected the servants had more to do with that than the king himself since his eyes were dark and tortured. New lines had emerged on his face and he’d grown in a beard thick enough to imply that only the staff was caring for his facial hair. Once he saw Stiles a look of absolute loss and pain crossed his face, and the man’s lips opened to emit a soft cry of sorrow.

“Stiles,” Derek whispered, voice ragged and shocked.

Stiles had only one reaction left to him upon seeing and hearing Derek’s misery, and that was to hold his arms out to him in invitation. Derek flew forward, fell to his knees, and pressed his face to Stiles’ belly. Stiles wrapped his arms around head and shoulders and held him there as Derek wept silently. Stiles hated that Derek had had so many moments of tears with him. He wanted their frivolity back. He wanted to run in the halls, get tackled to the floor, and be tickled until _he_ cried with joy. He wanted warmth and cuddles and dramatic story telling. He wanted his beloved back.

“I didn’t know,” Derek sobbed, “I swear to you, Stiles, I didn’t know. I caught your scent when I arrived, but when I asked they wouldn’t tell me and a guard started looking for you so I ran and tried to follow your scent and…”

“Shh, it’s okay,” Stiles soothed, “I’ve been well here.”

“You’re so beautiful,” Derek whispered, lifting his eyes to stare up at Stiles with a shimmer of joy behind them at last, “Look at you, Stiles! Gods, you’re gorgeous!”

“I’m fat, gassy, horny, and cry constantly, but okay. Gorgeous is nice,” Stiles laughed through tears.

“Run away with me,” Derek whispered, running his hands reverently over Stiles’ belly, “We’ll build a wagon, paint it garish colors, and travel the world like Romani.”

“You’re a king now, Derek,” Stiles reminded him, “You can’t run away. It’s treason and you’d be betraying your people.”

Derek leaned back on his heels and Stiles saw the sorrow had returned and hated that he’d put it there.

“I’ll kill him when I find him. I’ll end him, Stiles. I’ll end him and his curse.”

“When you do,” Stiles lowered himself back into the chair, “We’ll be waiting for you. We’re safe here.”

Derek reached for his belly again, staring at him in awe as he rubbed his hands over the mound that contained their child. Stiles sniffled and stroked Derek’s hair as they spent their stolen moments together. It couldn’t last and Stiles knew it as well as Derek did so what time he had he intended to cherish.

“They take care of you?” Derek asked, smiling up at Stiles lovingly.

“They do,” Stiles laughed lightly, “I lack for nothing but your company.”

“I’d give you that if I could,” Derek replied, “Now that I know where you are and… this… I have something to fight for besides the long and exhausting battle to save my people.”

“You’re here now,” Stiles replied softly, stroking through his hair, “Tell me where you’ve searched while you hold me.”

“Between the castle and here, first,” Derek replied, “Him seeking out kin made sense.”

“Not going to happen.”

“What?” Derek frowned, “Why not?”

“Your instincts tell you he should crave family, yes?”

“Yes?”

“His are broken. Peter is insane, Derek. He targeted you for years and then _murdered_ his supposedly favorite niece in cold blood just for an advantage of power? I mean, how important is this alpha thing?”

“It isn’t necessarily,” Derek replied, “Our abilities are a gift, but our status is just part of life. We end up where we’re most suited. If anything the alpha ability is a burden. Only Peter counted it so important. He was proud of the knot he grew when erect and constantly sought out lovers with the _intent_ of impregnating them. This isn’t even the only place with Hale heirs stashed away. There’s another in the northern part of our area. It’s actually the first one. Mother didn’t like to have the illegitimate children so close by, but he filled it up so La Casa was opened.”

“What. A. Loser,” Stiles decided.

“So where should I look, my sweet?” Derek asked, and then gasped as Stiles’ belly jumped.

Stiles was momentarily distracted by Derek’s wonder over the life they’d created. He was also apparently full of more tears than any human should have so they kept spilling over relentlessly despite his need to be able to _see_. Derek kissed them away and stroked Stiles’ hair, rubbing his shoulders and lovingly caressing his belly.

“I love you so, so much,” Derek whispered lovingly.

“I love you too, my prince. Or rather, my king!”

“I preferred prince,” Derek sighed, “At least I had more freedom! I don’t want this, Stiles. I never wanted to do more than learn and teach others. When I asked Scott if you were okay he said you started a school in a distant village. I could hear he was lying but I wanted to believe it. I was jealous!”

“A school,” Stiles breathed, “I’d wanted to be a peacekeeper once but that seems so distant now.”

“You’d be good at that, too,” Derek replied softly, “When… when this is over. When I finally put Peter down. I want you to come back to the castle with me.”

“Yes, of course,” Stiles replied, stroking his cheek gently.

“That was too easy!” Derek laughed, “Aren’t you going to tell me what will go wrong?”

“I already know what will go wrong,” Stiles sighed, “I can’t marry you. To change that law would be far too difficult. Your people will rebel. So you’ll creepily marry your cousin and find me position on the staff. I’ll share your bed and bare your children. Eventually Malia will have someone’s child and that child will take the thrown when we’re gone. It’s not a perfect life, but it’s the life that will make us happiest.”

“I owe you so much more than that,” Derek whispered, “People are talking about Laura’s children taking the throne. I’ve mentioned that I wouldn’t contest it.”

“You owe me nothing but what we originally agreed upon,” Stiles replied, “Your throne is yours or theirs at your discretion.”

“Remind me.”

“Of what we originally agreed upon? Devotion.”

“Devotion,” Derek kissed his hand gently.

“And a trip to the North,” Stiles held up his book and Derek laughed for what was possibly the first time in seven months.


	27. Chapter 27

Derek eventually had to leave his side. The guards found them and shooed him away back to his responsibilities. Scott had accompanied him to La Casa, but to Stiles’ surprise he hadn’t explained anything to Derek before hand and he didn’t intend to stay back with Stiles. He was determined to protect Derek so Stiles had his love after the dust settled. In his own words: Derek was a fighter, but Scott was a healer and when the fighting ended there had to be someone left to patch him up.

Stiles was grateful for his quest to keep Derek alive, and hugged his brother tightly before he left. From Derek he got a long, slow, steamy kiss that would go nowhere for so many reasons. Then he was once again alone, but now the people at La Casa knew he carried Derek’s sprog and were hungry for a chance at castle life. Stiles was suddenly covered with people offering to do what little chores he had. The staff had already taken most from him when he became too belly heavy to work, but now he had people lining up to make things pretty for him. Stiles took note of who was sincere and who was greedy because it never hurt to have friends and he of all people knew that well.

It was two weeks later when the letters began to arrive. Derek’s first letter stated that he would write a letter a day to him and was dated for the day he’d left Stiles again. Stiles knew the mail would be sporadic, and sure enough sometimes he got nothing for days and then got a whole pile of them. It came in spurts but Stiles read every single one every single day. He missed Derek. He missed his voice and his scent and his touch.

Stiles couldn’t write back because Derek was always moving, but he did write letters and store them away for Derek. He’d give them to him when his love was back in his arms so Derek could read them, laugh, cry, and maybe write music for the poems Stiles wrote for him. So Stiles practiced dancing (waddling) in front of the mirror, flirting prettily with it so that he’d be ready to woo Derek all over again just in case his post-baby body wasn’t as cuddly. Stiles had no idea what had Derek loving him, but he was more than content to make sure every aspect was as perfect as could be.

Finally the day arrived, and with it unparalleled pain that left Stiles screaming in agony for a full day. When the baby finally saw fit to leave Stiles’ tortured body he was too exhausted to write Derek a letter. He was also as dry as a dessert. Stiles had no milk for his baby so a wetnurse was sent for and brought in while his baby cried weakly for nearly two days. Stiles held her gently in his arms and sang to her softly. They could give her thickly boiled potato water, but it wouldn’t sustain her. She stopped crying by the second day and Stiles dreaded writing Derek a letter ever again. If a wetnurse couldn’t be found for a privileged household, how were the people outside of La Casa surviving? Had Peter’s curse passed from the clouds to the womenfolk?

“Wake up, my beautiful angel,” Stiles cooed to his baby when a woman was finally led to La Casa and presented to him, “Wake up. Please, wake up.”

“Give her over, Stiles,” Jennifer insisted. She was another mother in La Casa who had helped to deliver Stiles’ baby, “She needs to smell the milk, Stiles.”

Stiles gave his little one up to the stranger who bared her breast and pressed his daughter to her teat. Stiles lay in the bed trembling and fighting back tears. He hadn’t even seen her eyes. He had no idea whose she had. He wasn’t sure he wanted to know.

After a few minutes of rubbing the baby’s face against her leaky tit while Stiles rubbed his hands together and longed to pull her away from this woman who was _not_ her mother and seemed to be handling her wee head roughly. Finally the stranger let out a soft sound of excitement and then his baby’s little fist moved to thump against the breast she was softly nursing at. A moment later and she was suckling hungrily and Stiles was weeping in relief.

“She strong,” The stranger told him, her accent thick.

“Yeah she is,” Stiles choked out, “Just like her daddy.”

“Like her momma, too,” Jennifer assured him.


	28. Chapter 28

Stiles’ baby girl was beautiful. He had a member of La Casa draw a picture of her for Derek and included it in his letters. He sent a letter to the castle to Deaton that she’d been born but didn’t trust the precious picture with any travelers. He knew the Deaton loved Derek’s family. He’d tell him the moment he set foot in the castle that she was born and well. Stiles refused to name his baby, just calling her series of nicknames. The staff thought it was strange and worried that he wasn’t bonding with her, but the truth was that he couldn’t name her without Derek.

Derek’s next three letters were full of hope and dreams for their future, but no knowledge of the baby’s birth. He talked about knowing that Stiles was due in January, but Stiles had birthed early so Derek had no idea that his daughter was already looking around herself. He wanted Stiles back to him as soon as possible. He also wrote him an entire list of names for their future baby, but that was hardly helpful if he wasn’t there to help him choose. Half of them were boy’s names, anyway. So Stiles tried each one out for a day while his baby giggled at the silly voices he made.

The letters stopped.

Stiles finally chose a name.

Her name was Charity Hale, and if anyone asked he said she was named after her father.

Stiles was relieved when Charity was able to eat solids at last. He liked Rosalina, she was a sweet woman and she’d taught him Spanish, but he wanted his baby all to himself. She and he parted ways after a tight hug, and Stiles bid her a fond farewell with a promise that if his prospects ever changed he’d look her up.

Stiles’ heart had healed by the time he heard news of Derek again. He was in the place he’d hoped he’d be one day; the place where he could talk to Derek without falling apart if he saw him again. He had made peace with the lack of letters and he’d stopped writing his own. He’d accepted that if he ever saw Derek again, it would be on different terms than he’d been promised.

Derek, according to the messenger, had finally killed his uncle. Details not available. Stiles walked away when people started speculating and no letter was produced for Stiles personally. The distance had hope blossoming. Maybe Derek _couldn’t_ write. Perhaps…

That night Stiles lay Charity down in her cradle, rocked it until she dozed off, and left to collapse into his bed. He fought down the tears that wanted to pour. He was done crying for Derek Hale. He hadn’t wanted the responsibility of a kingdom. Perhaps that of a father was too much as well.

Stiles slept fitfully, his heart aching for something he never should have had. A hand slid over his covered back as the covers were drawn back. A spicy scent assailed his nose and a cold body nuzzled against his, making Stiles catch his breath.

“You’re fucking freezing,” Stiles gasped as arms wrapped tightly around him and Derek’s body settled against his.

“I missed you too, sprite.”

“Where the hell were you? Where were your letters?”

“I can’t speak for the letters. I sent them, although not with the last messenger since I was on his tail. Maybe they’ll turn up. How long have you been without them?”

“Months. Years.”

“Our baby is still in a cradle, so I don’t think it’s been years,” Derek snorted.

Stiles rolled over and Derek held him tightly against his chest, “I wanted to hold the baby but I was afraid I’d wake them with cold hands.”

“Wait till you warm up. I’ll bring her into the bed and you can finally meet her.”

“What… what’s her name?” Derek asked softly.

“Charity.”

“It’s perfect.”

“You owe me my letters, Derek Hale,” Stiles breathed, “What the hell happened in the East? And you better not tell me you married Kira Yukimura.”

“Ah… well…” Derek cleared his throat.

“Oh no.”

“It was Scott’s idea, I swear!”

“Spill.”


	29. Chapter 29

It had taken months to track down Peter once he’d stopped rampaging. There had been virtually nothing to follow and as long as Derek stayed away from Stiles the rain would flow. Derek hated the world. He hated the letter that arrived from Malia telling him his baby had been born. He hated the one telling him ‘it’, no gender given, was likely going to die. He couldn’t quite hate hearing the baby had lived, but he hated all and sundry for keeping him from his lover and child. He hated that Malia, as his betrothed, could get letters to him but his precious Stiles could not. He wrote to console him, but had no idea when Stiles would get the letters.

The world hadn’t been kind to Derek Hale. He’d been born to privilege but he’d lived with guilt every day since he had been too young to know what his dick was for. Then he’d found out that his dick was for something he didn’t want to use it for and he’d been doubly shamed. Lovers had come and gone and he’d found ways to make them happy, but it was always guilt. Always miles of ‘you don’t love me enough’ and ‘you don’t think I’m pretty’ and ‘real men can fuck without the full moon’. So Derek hated… himself.

Until Stiles. Until someone showed up whose eyes lit up whenever Derek suggested they read together. Until Stiles loved every single inch of his body but didn’t suggest he ride him or demand to fuck Derek while he bit a pillow and hated every painful second. Until Stiles showed up with his sarcastic whit and endless sass and weaseled his way into Derek’s heart. Stiles appreciated everything Derek did and understood that things hurt. He got that Derek wasn’t like other men and didn’t ask him to be. Stiles just wanted to be loved. Stiles just wanted to take care of someone. He was a giver, through and through, and while he’d be an amazing peacekeeper he’d also be one hell of a mother.

 _I hope I live to see it_.

Derek’s wounds weren’t healing. The nogitsune’s sharp sword had been laced with wolfsbane and Derek had just seen lightning appear from a cloudless sky to shock a soldier to death. Everything seemed lost. Peter was laughing maniacally while he dangled a helpless Scott by the throat and mocked them all. The world was fading and Derek wasn’t entirely sure that it was his wounds drawing strength from him. He was giving up. They’d lost. Noshiko was dead. Kira Yukimura didn’t have enough control of her kitsune powers to do more than swing the sword as if she were harvesting grain. Scott was a puppy. Isaac was unconscious. Boyd and Erica were dead and it was _Derek’s fault_ all over again.

Then something red flashed and Derek felt a sudden pull. His eyes widened as _alpha_ power surged around him. A new bond had been formed. A new alpha had risen, and it was _someone in his pack!_ Derek cast his eyes around hopefully. Had someone killed Peter and taken the Hale power for themselves? Derek would gratefully leave it with a new host if only he could have his life back!

Scott. Scott was the alpha, but Peter was still alive and completely unaware that he was holding a ticking time bomb until Scott’s power overflowed and he let out a savage roar. Peter reeled from the blast of raw werewolf magic and the power of a natural alpha’s howl. He was knocked backwards and fire flew from Kira Yukimura’s sword as she felt the alpha pull as well and responded in kind. Their pack was strengthened, joined by the Yukimuras, and Derek surged forward to fight with a howl of joy. Scott turned on the charging nogitsune and tackled the beast in bandages. Derek smelled blood from them, but was too busy trying to fight his uncle.

Derek’s broadsword swung through the air to be blocked by the beast even as Peter screamed in pain from the flames burning his body. Derek’s eyes watered with the stench of burning fur. Sweat streamed down his bare chest, glistening in the light of a bright full moon as-

“Fucking hell, Derek,” Stiles growled, “Get to the _point_! God! Your endless descriptions!”

“I cut off his head and got the Hale power. Happy?”

“And the nogitsu-thingy?”

“Scott bit its arm, and the legend that changing it was true,” Derek continued eagerly, “Scott broke the curse, the spirit fled the young man’s body and turned to dust. Liam was transformed into a werewolf and he follows your brother around like an angry little puppy.”

“That’s fucking adorable,” Stiles giggled, “And Isaac?”

“He’s fine,” Derek soothed, “Just beat up.”

“But… Erica and Boyd. They’re okay, right? They weren’t really…”

“Stiles, my love,” Derek whispered, stroking his hair out of his face, “This isn’t a fairytale. Erica and Boyd are gone.”

“She was so fun,” Stiles whispered, nuzzling in close.

“Yeah she was. And he was the most stoic, brave man I knew,” Derek sighed, “He never let the people saying foul things about his skin stop him from rising to the top. He was to be the chief of my guards… I’ll never forgive-“

“Fucking emo bastard,” Stiles growled out, “It’s not _your fault.”_

“What the fuck is an ‘emo’?” Derek snorted, “Some sort of animal? You and your peasant slang, I swear.”

“No, it means a dude who thinks he’s all deep, and plays sad music, and-“

“I don’t do that.”

“Yes you do, just embrace the you who you are.”

“Where are you getting this shit from?”

“Self help books, they can be very good for you. You should try them. Library here is full of them. I think Laura was trying to help in her own way.”

“You’re ridiculous.”

A soft cry interrupted their banter and Stiles immediately shifted from the bed, insisting Derek stay. The baby’s crib was kept by the fire with another brazier of coals on the other side of it and she was swaddled in three blankets until movement was impossible. Stiles removed two of them to bring her to their bed. It would be fine if she stayed there. He wasn’t about to fall back to sleep with _Derek_ finally back to him, so if Derek needed to bond with his baby by sleeping wrapped around their little angel than he would keep vigil to protect her from accidental squishing by sleepy werewolves.

“Oh, gods, Stiles,” Derek breathed when Stiles laid her against his belly, “She smells like us.”

“Mm,” Stiles agreed, shifting under the blankets to keep warm, “She’s got your eyes.”

“My eyebrows?”

“Oh, yeah.”

“Poor thing.”

“And my smile.”

“Thank goodness.”

“And I swear she already sings.”

“No!”

“Off key. For most of the day. It’s migraine inducing. You’re gonna love it.”

Derek laughed lightly and nuzzled his baby, “Hello, Charity. I’m your other daddy. I’ve missed you for your _whole_ life… and I think all of mine, too.”

Stiles sniffled a bit, but his time crying over Derek Hale truly was over. His tears were for Charity now, because she was going to have the future they’d sought and more. Well… with one exception…

“Hey,” Stiles scolded, “You forgot the rest. What about your epic marriage?”

“Mm, the Yukimuras. They’d always wanted us to marry, but I have never wanted it. Now she’s got a kingdom to run all by herself and she’s scared. She offered me a marriage proposal again, but with a very different twist. One in which we _both_ have consorts and never touch each other.”

“So I’m going with you to the East?” Stiles breathed.

“And so are Scott and Isaac,” Derek replied.

“Please say Isaac is Kira’s consort. He’s adorable and they would make the _cutest_ babies and he always thought our whole prince-and-pauper thing was kinky.”

“Close, but no. Scott.”

“Wait… that can’t be right. She was gone when I caught Scott doing the nasty with someone in his rooms.”

“Oh, I’m sure she was,” Derek snickered, “Ask me why Scott is a close guess to Isaac?”

“Yeah, Derek, how the hell is _Scott_ a close guess to _Isaac?”_ Stiles sneered teasingly.

“Because Isaac is _also_ with Scott.”

“You. What? That _dog!_ He’s… please tell me this is a consensual thing between all parties, because I will _not_ be okay if it isn’t.”

“Oh, they all know. Kira and Isaac are ridiculously adorable best friends like you and Scott. She says she’s found her long lost sister in Isaac and I swear he spends more time doing her hair than his duties. I had to dress myself all the way back from the East.”

“You poor baby, do you need a hug?” Stiles teased.

Derek laughed lightly, rubbing their baby’s back gently as she fussed, “I’ve missed this.”

“So have I,” Stiles replied, leaning in for a kiss, “Who will be the heir of her kingdom? Or yours?”

“My sister Cora has returned to rule Beacon Hills with my blessing. She will be regent until Laura’s eldest son is old enough to take the throne.”

“Hales have boys?”

“Shut up. As for the East, Scott’s children with Kira will be passed off as my heirs with her. Charity will be raised as a consort’s child, which in parts of her country is far less scandalous. She will have a royal upbringing and be treated well.”

“Thank goodness, because I’m so done crying every five minutes because of you.”

“Stiles, I-“

“Don’t,” Stiles stopped him, “Not your fault. Peter’s fault. You-“

“I was going to ask why the _baby_ is crying?” Derek cut him off.

“Hm? That’s not crying. That’s fussing,” Stiles snorted.

“Yeah, but why?”

Charity took in a breath and Stiles braced himself, “Oh, here it comes.”

“Here comes wha-?”

Charity let out a monstrous load of shit into her diaper and then followed it up with a banshee-worthy scream of indignation at having soiled herself.

“Definitely a princess!” Stiles shouted over her wails of misery.

Derek looked traumatized when Stiles lit the candle and took the smelly, shrieking child from his arms. He quickly changed her nappy, washed her bottom with a wet rag kept in warm water by the fireplace, sprinkled some ash into her diaper to help absorb the moisture, and keep her from having a rash, and wrapped her back up in a diaper. Charity’s ‘song’ didn’t end until he had her back under the covers with them where the warmth gave her comfort once more.

“We made _that_?” Derek whispered in horror.

“Yup. Just wait till you hear her when she’s _hungry_.”


	30. Chapter 30

Stiles stood up from his desk and headed around to the wall where he hung the next day’s list of duties. He yawned, stretched, and headed out into the hall. He locked up his office and nodded to a passing guard.

“Sir,” The guard grunted, then paused long enough that Stiles did as well.

“Yes, what is it?”

“It’s just… are you done for the night, sir?”

“I’m never done,” Stiles snorted, “That’s what being the head of the guards is all about. Evil never sleeps so yada yada yada, what did you need?”

“I was just wondering when you’d turn in for the night. Is majesty never sleeps well without you.”

Stiles smiled fondly. James was new to the guard but had already learned the castle’s secrets. One of which was that the king slept with the captain of the guard rather than his queen wife, who slept with the healer, who also slept with the head of staff. The other secret was a _lot_ bigger deal- and furrier- and when he’d found out he’d fainted. He’d probably never live that down, but Stiles wasn’t going to rib him overmuch. That was what senior guards were for.

“I’m turning in now,” Stiles assured him, “Just had some extra paperwork after that incident in the market.”

“At least no one was hurt.”

Stiles nodded his agreement and hurried to the rooms he shared with Derek. They were the second largest in the palace and they used most of that space for books and musical instruments. Stiles knew three now and their lovely daughter was just starting on the lyre since she’d inherited her mother’s ridiculously long fingers. Across the hall were Isaac, Scott, and Kira’s rooms, the largest in the palace, and the room beside them housed all three of their children. Charity considered Kira’s two children to be her siblings and had doted on them- and fought with them- from the moment they were born. Stiles had opted not to get pregnant again, but that wasn’t overly difficult since Derek preferred ‘me time’ to sexual escapades. Even during a full moon he generally preferred they rutt against each other. Besides, now that Derek was an alpha he’d inherited the Monster Dick and Stiles found that his reticence to take that had increased ten fold after having to push a baby from that same area. Pain was off his bucket list. If they did decide to have penetrative sex it took a lot of time and patience to get Stiles aroused enough to work it inside, so it was something they had only done a handful of times in the ten years since they’d moved to The Eastern Palace.

Stiles entered their chambers and was surprised to find Derek not only still awake, but his hand moving beneath the covers as he read a small book with eyebrows raised as he considered the words on the page. Stiles bounced in excitement and headed for the bedside table, pulling out a rolled piece of paper.

“I’ve been waiting for this for _ages_! Read this, Derek. Read this!”

Derek scowled and his hand stopped as he gave Stiles a frustrated glare, “You know I don’t like to be interrupted, Stiles.”

“I know, but this is _important!_ ” Stiles insisted.

Derek took it and smiled softly at the gift, “You know I love all your letters, Stiles, but I’m really into this poem so…”

“You’ve never read this letter,” Stiles insisted.

Derek gave him a surprised glance and put the book aside to take up the letter. He settled lower in the bed, licked his palm, and reached beneath the covers once more to pleasure himself. Stiles sat on the edge of the bed. He had dealt with an inconveniently timed erection on his own earlier in the day and he was far too nervous to be aroused. He waited as Derek read the letter, his lips falling open in wonder and excitement as he began to jerk his cock harder. Stiles watched his eyes fall shut as he gripped his knot and grunted through his climax. Stiles waited patiently as Derek shifted to remove the cloth he’d used to catch his mess and then pushed himself to a full upright position. His cock would stay erect for a while due to the knot, but Derek was back to ignoring it again now that his initial urgency was gone. He didn’t go in for the multiple orgasms it afforded him.

“Stiles, I… is this for real or some sort of porn?” Derek asked, giving him a stunned expression.

“You find that pornographic?” Stiles laughed lightly, “You amaze me. No, it’s real.”

“It’s… you’re pregnant?” Derek asked in astonishment.

“Yes!” Stiles crowed, “You wanted more kids, and now we’ve got one on the way!”

Derek put his arms out and Stiles started to undress, but Derek gestured for him to hurry it up. Stiles slid against him with only his shoes removed. Derek held him tightly and pressed kisses to his face as he stripped him of his clothes. Stiles lay back and Derek ran his hand over Stiles’ belly in excitement.

“It’s flat?”

“For now,” Stiles nodded.

“You’re getting enough food?” Derek worried.

“I’m on a ham-only diet for some reason,” Stiles shrugged, “Eventually I’ll be able to stomach other foods again, but yes. I’m getting plenty of foods, this is just early on.”

“I… why were you waiting until I was _jerking off_ to have me read that?” Derek laughed.

“Because my letters are how I make love to you,” Stiles replied with a soft smile, “And we made this baby together. I wanted love making to be a part of it.”

“Stiles,” Derek leaned forward to press a kiss to his lips and then tucked him against his chest, “Darling, we have so many ways of making love and I cherish each of them, including the one that actually involves us having sex.”

“Mm, I thought of you today.”

“Oh gods, where did you debauch yourself this time?”

“The garden,” Stiles snickered, “Behind a bush.”

“Filthy. You’re so filthy.”

“I’ll be super horny during my pregnancy. I always thought during the first one that if you’d been there you’d have, you know, _helped me_ through that. Especially when I got to round to reach most of my bits.”

“Stiles, I’d never leave you lacking,” Derek replied, “If you have needs, you just tell me. I’ll even have a longer sex toy made for you… although I doubt you’ll be able to carry that one around in a sheath like it’s a knife, you pervert.”

“I know,” Stiles kissed Derek’s shoulder, “It’s hard to ask sometimes, but I also love that our relationship is all about the cuddles and stories.”

“Now we’ll have a new story,” Derek breathed, “Gods, Stiles. The sight of you pregnant! I’ll get to be there through the whole thing this time. I’m a bit giddy!”

“You? Giddy?” Stiles laughed.

“Well, excited, at least.”

Stiles snuggled in with a heavy sigh, “Sleep now, my King.”

“Yes, my handsome Captain.”

 

ALTERNATE ENDING WITH SEX

I enjoyed this, but it didn’t feel quite right for the tone of the story.

 

Stiles entered their bedroom to find Derek sleeping lightly. His scruffy husband gave him a happy smile and pulled the blankets aside as soon as Stiles had stripped down. Stiles preferred to sleep naked, and was soon cuddled against Derek’s warm body as the man rubbed his arms and murmured against his forehead.

“I have time tomorrow. We can go for a horse ride.”

“Mm, I’d love that,” Stiles sighed, “I’ll leave things in Jackson’s hands. It will give him wood to be in charge.”

“Ew.”

“Yeah, but it gives me more time with you.”

“Charity misbehaved during lessons again.”

“She takes after me,” Stiles sighed, “Sorry about that.”

“I love her, but she’s a _handful_.”

“Welcome to the bane of my father’s life,” Stiles chuckled, “I think he went to his grave sighing my name in frustration.”

“She said she didn’t know why she did it.”

“Gods, what did she do now?”

“Managed to capture a pigeon and force a paper dress on it.”

Stiles nearly choked as he laughed, “How did she know what size to make the dress?!”

“That… that’s your first question?”

“It’s a valid question!”

“Ask her in the morning,” Derek groaned.

“Hey, awesome lover of mine…”

Derek whined, “Again?”

“You don’t have to!” Stiles replied instantly.

Derek pulled Stiles’ chin up and kissed him slowly, their tongues gliding together slowly, “I love to pleasure you, darling. You just _always_ want it when I’m sleepy.”

“I can wait.”

“No way,” Derek scolded, “You’ll end up with an inconvenient erection while we’re riding and make me stop so you can jerk off in a bush.”

“One time. That happened _one time!”_

“You have to read poetry to me,” Derek flirted as he reached for the oil on their bedside table, “Make it something _really_ pretty and flowing.”

Stiles reached into the other bedside table and pulled out a little poetry book they kept there for emergency lovemaking. This was their intimacy. Most days Stiles would jerk off alone, but sometimes he asked for Derek’s assistance if he wanted to be closer to him physically in that moment. Usually it was when he’d worked late. Derek’s idea of closeness- besides _epic_ cuddles- involved mental stimulation. So Derek lubed up a toy they’d had made by a craftsman that had a slight curve and a little round bulb on the end while Stiles searched for something to make Derek moan in the poetry book.

“Mm, you’re going to like this one!” Stiles cooed.

Derek moved between Stiles’ legs and teased his entrance with the toy while waiting for Stiles’ body to be ready for the toy. Stiles’ cock was already plumping up.

“Dearest Derek,” Stiles read.

“That’s not poetry,” Derek tried to snatch the book up, but Stiles pulled it away quickly.

“No way! I’ve been saving this one.”

Derek sighed and rolled his eyes, but gripped Stiles’ dick in his hand. The challenge was for Stiles to keep reading even when Derek had him cross-eyed with pleasure.

“My Dearest Derek, it has been far too long since I last caught the scent of your hair. The clothes you sent me away in no longer smell like you.”

Derek’s breath caught in his throat. This wasn’t one of the letters from their long correspondence, this was from day that Stiles’ casts came off his arms and he was finally able to pick up a pen and write out his feelings. Derek slid the toy into Stiles’ body and he kept his voice steady as the man began to fuck him with it while grasping Stiles’ erection.

“I miss your eyes. They were like the swirling water when the rain overwhelmed the river’s shores. Greens and browns mixed with the sharp blue of fallen flowers.”

“Stiles,” Derek breathed, dipping his head to swallow down Stiles’ cock.

Stiles’ breath shook but he stubbornly kept reading, “I miss your lips. They were warm and rough all at once, just like your personality. I never thought there was someone out there who could not only tolerate but love me. You made me feel things I never expected. Even if you had never touched me I still would have c-counted myself fulfilled.”

Derek hummed around Stiles’ cock and the man stubbornly refused to jerk his hips despite the urge to do so. Derek _hated_ being manhandled while pleasuring Stiles. He had to simply lay there and take it, the pillow beneath his hips the only support. Derek had gotten good over the years, so the way he was only hitting Stiles’ g-spot on every other thrust meant he was teasing him. He was enjoying their lovemaking as much as Stiles was.

“I miss your eyebrows. Yes, even those fuzzy caterpillars of rage that spoke volumes whenever I made you so angry you could only sputter, fume, and gesticulate wildly with those furry limbs.”

Derek snorted out a laugh and reached for more oil. He tipped the jar upside down while circling the head of Stiles’ cock with his tongue. Stiles lost his place and made his own sputtering sound as his brain shut down from pure pleasure overload.

“Oh, fuck, yes, you sexy bastard, fuck!” Stiles ranted.

Derek popped off his cock but Stiles frantically found his place to get him back on.

“Uh. Uh. The the. I miss! I miss the way your skin felt against mine!” Derek’s hot cavern returned and Stiles’ body relaxed back against his toy and fingers… fingers?

Holy shit. Derek was _evil_! He was going for Stiles’ back door, an activity he only indulged in rarely as it wasn’t something he really enjoyed. I was, however, something that could reduce Stiles to complete incoherency in seconds. Derek’s finger teased his rim and Stiles’ voice switched octaves a few times.

“I miss the way your body was always warm, even in the dead of winter, and I mourn that I will never get to find out if we’d hate sweating together in sum-sum-summer. Would you have thrown off the covers so we could still hold each other and sleep ssssshhhamelessly nude in your rooms? Or w-would you have slept away from my body, our fingers linked in longing of what we did by winter?”

Derek moaned deeply and his finger slid into Stiles’ ass while the young man grunted at the intrusion and then quickly began reading again before Derek took it away.

“I can on-only imagine what you are going through as well. Your pain is my pain. Holy shit, I was really pathetic when I wrote this.”

Derek popped off his dick and Stiles whined miserably, “The answer was hold hands because you can’t handle me sweating.”

“Please! Please!” Stiles begged.

“Letter,” Derek ordered, “Make my mind flutter like the insides of your body.”

“Uhn,” Stiles moaned as Derek mouthed at the underside of his cock.

Stiles found his place again and cleared his throat to stall before speaking up again, “I will struggle to go on and leave you be as you requested, but nothing will ever stop me from looking for a way to get back to you. It’s my dream to hold you again. I would give a thousand orgasms to hear you laugh and a million laughs to see you happy ag-coming!”

Derek’s fingers had been come hither motions inside his ass while his free hand plundered his cunt with the toy. The mouth slowly gliding up and down over his dick would have been enough, but all three at once was absolutely orgasmic. Stiles dropped the book with the letter stashed inside and slammed a pillow over his face so he could scream out his climax. Derek sucked, fingered, and fucked him through his release as Stiles moaned and restrained himself from jerking up against his lover’s face. Derek popped off quickly, releasing the toy in his pussy so he could spit into his hand. The other left Stiles’ as a second later and he gave him a sweet smile.

“I loved hearing that letter,” Derek told him, pecking a kiss to Stiles slack lips.

Derek headed off to the water pot to wash up, returning with a damp towel for Stiles.

“Thanks,” Stiles sighed, the toy still hanging out of his front hole like a joke about his libido.

“Are you satisfied, my love?” Derek asked cockily as he lay down on his side by Stiles’ prone form.

“You _know_ I am,” Stiles groaned, “It’s always so good when you touch me.”

“When I touch you in _any_ way, I hope?” Derek asked.

“Of course,” Stiles scoffed, yawning broadly.

“Oh, _now_ you’re tired. Once you’ve succeeded in waking me up!”

“Sorry,” Stiles yawned, “Coming always makes me sleepy.”

“Well, I want to read the rest of that letter,” Derek decided.

“Mm, s’there,” Stiles pointed tiredly.

Derek fetched the letter and settled down.

“I have been unable to eat this entire time and it has stopped my cycle,” Derek read, “If this hadn’t happened before I would suspect I was with child, but the date in which I gave my body to you don’t add up to a pregnancy. It is still beautiful to think about carrying your child. I would do anything for you, even give you an heir and a spare. When I gave you my body, I meant all of it. Even my womb, though I am terrified of giving birth. For you, I would do anything. Yours Forever, Stiles Hale. Stiles Hale? Really?”

“I was depressed and pregnant!”

“You didn’t think you were at the time.”

“It was a while before my belly showed,” Stiles replied, “Is that all you have to say about my letter?”

“It’s… um…” Derek considered his words carefully, “Beautiful?”

“It’s corny as fuck,” Stiles scoffed, “Come on, Derek. Read between the lines.”

Derek frowned, “The only thing I can think to point out is the heir and a _spare_. Really? I mean, come on, you weren’t even eager to have the first!”

“I wasn’t eager, no,” Stiles replied with a laugh, “But that was all circumstances. Once Laura offered me a way to keep your baby I was all for it.”

“Still,” Derek shrugged, “Bit presumptuous of you to decide that you’d go for a second before you knew how horrible childbirth was.”

Stiles grinned wickedly at Derek and he paused, eyes widening.

“You… you aren’t?”

“I am.”

“But, the skins! And I barely touch you!” Derek sputtered.

“One or both of us are super fertile and you tore _right_ through that skin last full moon. I didn’t want to worry you so I kept it to myself. I was going to ask Deaton for a potion, but… well… I decided it was probably fate and I know you want another child.”

“Your pregnant?” Derek asked in shock.

“With another bouncing baby Hale,” Stiles bragged.

“You’re pregnant!” Derek crowed, then leaped out of the bed naked as the day he was born and charged out their door.

“Derek, you lunatic!” Stiles laughed as Derek pounded on the door across the hall.

“Scott! Isaac! Kira! Stiles is _pregnant!”_

“With whose baby?” Isaac sassed while Scott and Kira shouted at him to let them sleep.

“With mine!” Derek shouted.

The door opened and Isaac spoke up, “Holy shit, is he okay?”

“I’m _careful!_ ” Derek snapped back, “Scott can be, too.”

“Yeah, or I can bottom like a gentleman,” Scott replied, “Isaac heals, Stiles doesn’t!”

“Stiles has parts Isaac doesn’t,” Derek snapped back, “Are you missing the part where my beloved _is pregnant?!”_

“Congratulations, you got it up,” Isaac yawned, “Now can we sleep?”

“Assholes,” Derek grumbled, returning to the bedroom deflated.

“What do you expect at this hour?” Stiles laughed, “They’ll freak out in the morning and shower you with praise, you manly thing, you.”

Derek crawled into bed, “Come here so I can hold you, my beloved.”

Stiles rolled over and snuggled back against Derek happily, “Just think, this time you get to be there for the whole thing!”

“The first flutter.”

“The gas.”

“The first kick!”

“The puking.”

“You round and glowing and… Stiles. I’ve got an erection.”

“ _That’s_ what does it for you?!”


End file.
